


you are my sunshine

by vonseal



Category: ASTRO (Band)
Genre: Angst, Drama, Drug Dealing, Explicit Language, Gangs, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Romance, Sex, Sexual Content, Unhealthy Relationships, Violence, bit of a wild ride tbh, mostly all myungjin, not so much binu and socky, warnings will be placed before each chapter when necessary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-29
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-07-04 08:01:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 30
Words: 95,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15837123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vonseal/pseuds/vonseal
Summary: jinwoo is a daffodil stuck in an eternal winter. he awaits the sunshine of spring to come and cause a rebirth in his life. could myungjun, the cute ramen shop owner, become his sunshine?





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the description sucks.
> 
> ANYWAY i've been hyping this fic for the past month or so. i've been writing it for much longer than that. it's based off a [drabble](https://yehetno.tumblr.com/post/168419886462/sunshine-and-ashes-mjjinjin-thugjinjin) the lovely and magnificent [yehetno](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yehetno/pseuds/yehetno) wrote. i asked her ages ago if i could make an entire long fic based off of it, and she said yes and tbh im 100% certain she's forgotten all about that at this point. i waited so long to post anything lol.
> 
> in any case, please enjoy the first chapter of _you are my sunshine_!

**you are my sunshine my only sunshine**

**you make me happy when skies are gray**

**you'll never know dear how much i love you**

**please don't take my sunshine away**

 

All mothers long for their children to grow up as doctors, or lawyers, or presidents. They dream of high expectations, of a comfortable life with a large household. They wish for nothing more than their children to be rich, maybe famous, or at least to be well-loved and cherished within the community.

Park Jinwoo rejected all of it.

He supposed if his mother was still alive, she wouldn't be too pleased with his life choices. He believed she would be rolling over in her grave and cursing his very name. He just couldn't find it in himself to care very much, however. She was dead, and he had to make do with his current life, not the imaginary one she had picked out for him.

Sometimes he would remind himself that he chose  _ survival _ out of everything else. He had wound up in a bad situation, borrowing money from gang members at the very young age of seventeen, and he couldn't exactly pay them back. Indebted to them, he had to think quickly; joining the gang seemed like the best option for money and security, and he tossed aside all the hopes his mother had set for him in order to ensure his life wouldn't be completely ruined from his idiotic mistake.

At least he was  _ alive _ though. At least he had some semblance of a normal life; he had friends within the gang, he had money to buy himself food and clothing, and he had wits and strength and enough street-smart to get himself out of even the most tricky situation.

His life wasn’t exactly what he had dreamed of when he was a kid, but dreams never did come true. He was aware of that now, and so he took what he could get.

His life hadn't been easy, and it probably never would be easy, but he couldn't ask for  _ easy _ anymore. He could ask for life, and for protection, and maybe to never go hungry. He had stopped asking for minimal pain, for he learned a life within a street gang meant he was forced to become equipped to handle whatever pain might find him. He thought he could now handle it with dignity, a far contrast to the immature kid he used to be, the kid who cried when given his first tattoo. Now he handled it all with a stony expression and a tense body.

Mothers didn't want for their children to ever become involved with gang activity or illegal deeds. Mothers would wish for their children to stay far away from such unlawful acts. Jinwoo could understand why, and he lit a cigarette with a harsh chuckle as he gazed upon a worn picture of his mother.

She had warned him, at one point, that a life dedicated to evil and sin would bring nothing but unhappiness. “It might be exciting in the moment,” she had said, and he could still remember her voice so clearly. It was always warm, always light, always spoken with a smile on her face. Jinwoo, at a young age and having seen gang members out on the streets one night, had listened to her with rapt attention. “But soon enough, it will overwhelm you. It will ruin you, Jinwoo, and it will push away any bit of happiness you find.”

He recalled being absolutely sure of his future – it involved staying far away from gangs. He told his mother he wouldn't drink, or smoke, or try any drugs throughout his youth. He promised he would attend university and make something of himself. “And then,” he continued to promise, holding onto her weak and frail hand as she withered away in her hospital bed, “I will make enough money to make you all better again, and we'll stay together forever! Okay?”

She passed away a few years later. She fought long and hard, but it was never quite enough to battle the illnesses that had consumed her, and Jinwoo, in desperation and pain and sadness, turned away from the life he thought he would lead.

He was scared in the beginning, but he molded into shape,. Within a year, he felt that he fit in rather nicely. He did what he was told. He worked well with the other members. He lost most of his fear and gained an abundance of brawn. It wasn't  _ normal, _ not in any sense of the word, but he had figured out how to survive an unfortunate situation in his life, and perhaps it made him stronger.

But, still, Jinwoo decided he would rather his poor mother never find out. “Good thing I won't see you in heaven,” he spoke to her picture, and he reached a finger out to pet the image — to feel, if only slightly, his mother's warmth shining through. “You'll be nice and safe up there, and I'll figure out what to do wherever I end up.”

He puffed on his cigarette before turning the picture down on his nightstand, shielding his deceased mother from the life he now led. 

He sat in bed, smoke stretching out in long tendrils around his head, creating a hazy sort of halo near his dark, maroon strands. The world was slightly blurry, his glasses somewhere on his desk and his contacts in the bathroom, but he could still make out his clothes strewn about on the floor and his shoes placed neatly by the entrance to his apartment.

It was a small room, all he could really afford, and it offered him a chance to continue his gang-related activities without any sort of trouble. The landlord was paid off nicely, and he understood that reporting Jinwoo's presence to authorities would land himself in a heap of trouble. Jinwoo liked the landlord just fine, if only for the fact he didn't bug anyone or ask questions. He kept to himself and allowed most of his rented rooms to be used for less-than-lawful characters.

Still, because of the cheap rent and the lackluster management, Jinwoo was subject to early morning alarms from his neighbors, scrambling to begin their days and making far too much noise. He supposed he was used to it, at this point, but it definitely didn't stop the frown on his face as he pulled himself from bed and shuffled over to his fridge.

The fridge wasn't very well stocked. He hadn't done anything worthwhile for cash in a week or two, and it definitely showed. There was some milk, leftover rice, and a small can of soda. In the pantry, he was able to find a few snacks to eat, but he knew he would need something else later on. Grocery shopping was a necessary chore, and he was fortunate enough that he would soon be getting the funds to buy himself a good meal.

As long as he held out until the evening, he would be perfectly fine.

He grabbed a small pack of cookies, quickly opening them and popping a few into his mouth as he rifled through his dresser drawer for clothes to wear. A brief glance outside informed him that it was likely to be cold, if the frost covering a few cars was anything to go by, and so after he finished off his meal, he dressed warmly in a sweater and coat.

He sometimes wondered what would he be like if he had lived a  _ normal  _ life. On long bus rides or periods of boredom, he would imagine himself as a lawyer, or a doctor, or someone who  _ wasn't _ a member of a gang. He sometimes thought he should find himself a time machine. He could stop all bad things from happening, and then life would be fine, and he would be just like everyone else he saw on the streets. 

Today, Jinwoo decided as he glanced at an advertisement near his bus stop, he would want to be a fisherman. It wasn't a very prolific job, nor was it anyone's dream career choice, but Jinwoo liked the idea of being out in the open seas. It looked freeing, peaceful and calm – compared to his current lifestyle, at least. He liked fish, too, and he had always wanted to go fishing. He could wear the bucket hats, maybe with little fish hooks embellished into them, just like he had seen other fishermen wear. He would always be near the water, too. He could fall asleep to the sounds of the waves as they crashed up against the rocks, and he would awaken every morning to a small, little house that had a lovely view of the sunrise.

The bus pulled up and Jinwoo tore his eyes away from the large advertisement for fish, wondering if he could afford to have his own car as a fisherman. He would like to. The bus was an inconvenience, sometimes, and he would feel as if he had far more freedom with his own vehicle. He wouldn't be subject to anyone's schedule but his own.

Jinwoo settled into a window seat, far at the back of the bus, and sighed as he relaxed his shoulders. Would he have a family as a fisherman? It would be nice. His mother and all of his friends would want for him to have a girl by his side, but he couldn't imagine that. He liked  _ boys _ ; he had since he was old enough to understand romantic and sexual urges of his heart and his body. It was a secret, but he liked to think that, as a fisherman, he wouldn't feel the need to hide it. He would have someone who loved him right back, someone smart and handsome and sweet. Maybe he would be a fellow fisherman, or maybe he would be someone with a white-collar career. He wouldn't mind dating a shop owner, either, or even someone more creative and artistic. They would take cute photographs together, and Jinwoo would frame them all. He would imagine their house to be a homey one, full of laughter and love.

The bus pulled up to a stop and Jinwoo vaguely glanced out the window at the people piling on. He spotted a few kids, jumping up and down near their mother, asking he many questions, and he couldn't help but smile. Maybe he would have kids. He would adopt, of course. Two or three? Perhaps more. They would be darling children, polite and respectful and extremely cheerful. His husband would probably help them with homework, and Jinwoo would mother over them instinctively. He would dress them every morning and make them breakfast and urge them off to school.

His life dreams were wonderful, and he could not stop from grinning as he imagined how his life  _ could _ be, should be; maybe, one day, would be.

Not that he could imagine ever leaving his current life. He had too many ties, too many debts, too many fears. He was stuck in the gang, and all he could do was create something more wonderful in his mind.

The bus started up again, the loud rumble of the engine pulling Jinwoo out of his daydreams. More people were crowded around him now, yawning or on their phones or else staring out of their windows just as wistfully as Jinwoo himself had been doing. 

There was someone across from him, too, someone who was bundled up tightly in a large, puffy coat. A scarf was draped around his chin, covering both his mouth and his nose from the sharp chill of the air, and a beanie was pulled on over his head, tufts of hair sticking out on his forehead. He had soft, brown eyes, catching light from the sun's rays and making them shine, and he seemed rather small, swallowed up completely by his winter attire.

He had been staring at Jinwoo, too, as Jinwoo had glanced over at him, and the little skin left showing now turned red from slight embarrassment. He looked away too quickly, and Jinwoo heard him clear his throat.

Jinwoo didn't turn his own eyes away, though. He was enraptured by this man, a man who portrayed so much beauty and wonder within himself. Jinwoo knew he couldn't see all of the man fully to make a judgment, but he was willing to bet everything that the man was probably the most beautiful creature in existence. He looked like warmth would feel, he looked like happiness should be.

He reminded Jinwoo of sunshine.

Sunshine was staring out the window now, moving slightly in his seat, and after a minute or two, he spared a glance back at Jinwoo, who still had yet to turn away.

Their eyes met. Sunshine looked rather surprised to still be the object of Jinwoo's attention, and he seemed to swallow nervously before holding up a hand. He had mittens on, red and chunky, and it made Jinwoo all the more endeared and intrigued.

Sunshine waved cautiously.

Jinwoo hesitated long enough for Sunshine's hand to drop back onto his lap. He could see the conflict in Sunshine's eyes, the humiliation as a blush crept up his cheeks again, and he realized Sunshine probably assumed Jinwoo ignored him.

That wouldn't do at all, not when Sunshine was the only person on Earth that Jinwoo wanted to see at that moment.

So he, too, held up his hand. Sunshine's eyes widened as Jinwoo waved gently. He was pleased it was cold and that he had on a sweater to cover the tattoos that traveled up his arm, the scars that littered his skin, because now all Sunshine could see was just one rough hand, fingers wiggling slightly in teasing.

Sunshine snorted before blinking in confusion. He reached into his pockets and tugged harshly until he pulled out a pair of gloves. These were knitted with bright yellow yarn; they were quite ugly, if Jinwoo had to tell the truth. His style was more subdued, more neutral, and Sunshine seemed to only dress in colors that popped, that drew attention, that probably complimented his lovely personality.

Sunshine fumbled with the gloves before he held them forward, across the aisle. His eyes were turned up with a smile, and Jinwoo watched him curiously, contemplating what on earth he should do. Sunshine urged him, shoving the gloves in his direction, and finally Jinwoo realized he needed to take those damn, ugly gloves in order to satisfy Sunshine.

Jinwoo would not leave him to wait.

He gently reached a hand forward and grabbed onto the gloves. His fingers brushed up against Sunshine's hand, still encased in its warm mitten, and Sunshine had the audacity to give him a small giggle before drawing back, holding his hands tightly to his clothed chest as his cheeks, once more, became red with blush.

Jinwoo watched him, absolutely enchanted by such a character, until Sunshine looked back in his direction.

Sunshine made some hand movements, miming sticking the gloves on himself, and Jinwoo nodded his head before following along.

The gloves were dreadful to look at, but they were warm, at least, and when Jinwoo held his hands up to his face to warm his nose, he realized they smelled nice, too. They carried the scent of home-cooked foods, and of vanilla, and of some sort of clean, lavender-scented laundry detergent. Jinwoo wondered if that was how Sunshine must smell.

He wouldn't imagine Sunshine to smell any other way.

He did wish, though, that he had something to give Sunshine in return. He wished he could find some way to show his gratitude – and he also wished he could find some way to see Sunshine again. He didn't want their one and only encounter to be on a bus, and he definitely did not want Sunshine to never return again.

The bus pulled up to its stop as Jinwoo thought, and Sunshine gathered his book bag as he stood from his seat. Jinwoo felt his heart race as Sunshine looked down at him to give a small wave.

Jinwoo  _ wanted _ to give Sunshine his number. He wanted to write it down quickly and shove it into Sunshine's hands, or else to blurt it out suddenly and confidently. Maybe Sunshine would use it, and maybe he wouldn't, but it would at least give Jinwoo a chance to see him again.

But Jinwoo couldn't get the words to come out. He tried, but he ended up releasing naught but a soft sigh, and before Sunshine could turn around and walk off the bus, all Jinwoo  _ could _ do, really, was wave back at him, wiggling his fingers in his gloved hand.

At least Sunshine seemed to be smiling again, and he looked cheerful and chipper as he hurried off the bus.

Jinwoo waited a second or two before glancing out the window, and he noticed Sunshine staring right back at him, interested, curious, and still unsure of what it was they had just shared.

And then the bus pulled away, and Jinwoo only saw buildings and trees and other people passing by who mattered very little compared to Sunshine.

He cursed himself, a little too loudly, causing a young woman who had taken Sunshine's seat to glance at him, affronted, but he didn't care very much. He had his chance to talk to someone who looked pretty and cute and sweet, but he blew it by cowering in on himself and refusing to speak up.

It might be just as well, though. Such a lovely young man didn't deserve to become involved in all of Jinwoo's nonsense. Jinwoo only interacted with people like himself, scum of society, those very low on the totem pole. Sunshine's life needn't become bogged down with a man who made all his money off of illicit activities.

Still, Jinwoo was unable to convince himself that their brief encounter was for the best, that he should not ever try to make  _ something _ out of  _ nothing _ , and that he should never once taint someone as pure and perfect as Sunshine.

Instead, he continued to stare out the window, frowning now, as his imaginations turned to a man with bright eyes and a cheerful demeanor, and pretended that they were both working good jobs in a good neighborhood with good children, and they loved each other more than anything else in their lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope this doesn't disappoint after all the hype i gave this lmao. but it probs will. we shall see.
> 
> again, as the fic progresses, the rating will make more sense. i'll paste warnings when necessary, and i'll also point out if there's anything you need to skip - violence or sexual situations, for example (you can't skip the language, too much of that). let me know, though, if anything makes you uncomfortable or if there's something i ought to change! i'll consider it!
> 
> big shoutout to [mk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/snibnoom/pseuds/snibnoom) for her assistance in editing this fic! i needed someone with intense editing skills and she answered the call. i dont think i would've been so satisfied posting this if not for her - she caught things i would never even think twice of!
> 
> please follow me on my [tumblr](http://www.vonseal.tumblr.com) or on my [twitter](https://twitter.com/nightmjare) (i comment more regularly on twitter now oops)! i'll give spoilers and updates and whatnot on either platform!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and so we get chapter two!
> 
> **chapter warnings:** slight violence, language, mention of drugs

Jinwoo had never much appreciated nightclubs. They were dingy, usually, and filled with sweaty bodies grinding up against each other. He often had headaches by the end of his stay, and he never got drunk enough to offset those headaches. He simply had to learn to suffer through it all; however, he discovered he was quite good at suffering quietly to himself. There was really no other choice but to suffer quietly in the field he worked.

His visits to nightclubs were  reserved for work-related purposes. There was once or twice where he would go out with friends, but the night would always end with trouble; fights, inappropriate behavior, vandalizing, or a collection of all these things. As such, nightclubs weren't a place where Jinwoo felt comfortable. He was always tense, always on edge, always ready to clean up whatever mess was caused by the appearance of his friends.

He took odd jobs on the side, though, jobs that didn't require any other members of his gang to be present. When he wasn't working with them, he worked with other ill-boding men who paid him well for his time and usually would request his assistance again when they wanted to engage in more illegal activities.

His tasks were quite simple, most of the time. He was to stand guard nearby while his client traded drugs for large quantities of money. He had to ensure that no authorities showed up and that the deal wouldn't go south. He was a glorified bodyguard, really, and he was alright with that because the pay was very nice.

His client sat at a table, drumming his fingers along the edge, and Jinwoo leaned up against the wall nearby, eyes scanning the crowd. The buyer was late and Jinwoo was growing wary of the deal.

“What's wrong with being late?” the client suddenly asked, voice loud over the deep bass of the music. Jinwoo glanced down at him, and his client continued, “It's just been ten minutes!”

Jinwoo looked at his watch before shaking his head. “You must be new to this!” he yelled back, but he didn't expand on his words. The man seemed confused but didn't inquire any more information. Jinwoo preferred it that way. He wasn't really in the mood to start yelling about the difficulties of drug deals. He had experience, but no one ever believed him. Anyway, he would probably garner unwanted attention if he started to talk about the large bag of drugs the man was nervously gripping onto.

His client was new. Jinwoo could tell. He was too curious and too unsure. He already drew too much attention to himself with his shifty attitude, and Jinwoo found himself wondering if he accepted the job too hastily. He should have taken the chance to think everything over, but he had already been paid half of his share and so he was stuck.

A late arrival from the buyer, though, could mean a number of things. Jinwoo tried to remind himself that it wasn't necessarily a  _ bad _ thing, but he had seen far too many drug deals gone wrong to truly relax. Sometimes the buyer would simply be late due to traffic or forgotten time, but it was often a setup of sorts, or a chance for the buyer to ready himself for a fight.

Jinwoo shuffled nervously, crossing his arms over his chest and feeling quite thankful that he had at least stored a knife away in his clothing, prepared just in case.

He decided they could wait another five minutes before he would feel too antsy, and he prepared to move to tell his client. Just as he did, though, he noticed a man slinking his way through the crowd, holding onto a briefcase and casting charming smiles at all the women who met his eyes.

“Finally,” Jinwoo whispered, leaning back again as the man sat down at the table.

He greeted Jinwoo's client, tone too bright and too cheerful for performing such an unlawful act. Jinwoo sometimes wondered just how people could live with a guilt-free conscience after willingly breaking the law. He wondered if it was possible that people slept soundly at night, free from the demons that might flit about in their heads.

Jinwoo would like to know how they could act normal after all they had done.

He turned his attention to the deal going on in front of him. Underneath the cover of the dark, taking advantage of the rampant alcohol and lack of attention, it seemed to be going rather smoothly. His client was leaned in, discussing terms with the buyer, who kept nodding impatiently and gesturing for the drugs.

The talks were done. They exchanged the goods, each one checking their new specific package in order to ensure things were as they were supposed to be. Jinwoo watched cautiously as the buyer slowly nodded his head before zipping the bookbag up again, keeping a tightened grip on the handles. However, Jinwoo's client seemed much more perplexed at what he was given, counting the money out slowly, mouth forming words as he finished. Jinwoo stepped closer, already sensing something was going on, and he was able to come into earshot just in time to hear his client complain, “-and this isn't what we agreed on.”

The buyer watched him for a moment before glancing up at Jinwoo. “I didn't agree for you to have an armed guard with you,” he spoke, voice low and deep.

Wanting to smooth things over and avoid a fight, Jinwoo quickly responded, “It's protocol.”

“I've never had a seller bring a bodyguard with him before.”

“Then you must be new to this, too, but I sure as hell am not. It's protection for  _ both _ of you – if my client tried to hurt you, I'd stop him just as well as I'd stop you.” After all, it wasn't like he could get any money if his client had to be on the run from police, and then Jinwoo himself would be under intense scrutiny. His life would definitely be ruined should something go amiss.

The buyer scoffed and glanced back at Jinwoo's client. “Consider this, then, to be a punishment for allowing your  _ bodyguard _ to follow us in here. It was not part of the original agreement.”

Jinwoo's client glared, and Jinwoo tried to think of what other steps they could take. Sometimes, this sort of thing happened; the buyer would attempt to shortchange the seller, or vice versa. Jinwoo hated such situations, because it typically would end in violence. He wasn't at all in the mood to deal with fighting at the moment, and so he stepped closer. “I think we can all agree that we might need to take a step back and look over our actions here,” he murmured, tapping the table to get his client's attention. “If the money isn't what you wanted, then he doesn't get the drugs,” he told his client, as the man looked over at him. “You made a set price and he didn't follow through.”

“I didn't follow through because he brought along a bodyguard,” the buyer grumbled.

Jinwoo glanced back at him and scoffed. “You brought less money than anticipated before you knew I was here. Lay off it.” He looked at his client again, ready to offer words of advice, to cut this entire deal and call it quits for the evening before things took a turn for the worse, but as he opened his mouth, he noticed his client's eyes widen. 

Out of curiosity, he spun around, and that’s when he saw the knife being thrust in his direction. Fortunately, his reflexes were quick from years of living on the edge; unfortunately, he wasn't quick enough to escape the attack. The knife caught onto the edge of his arm, ripping and tearing at skin. Jinwoo tumbled backwards, hitting the wall again, and reaching into his jacket to grab his own knife. He head a few screams nearby as people caught on to the scuffle, but he didn't care at the moment. He needed to preserve his life, and, most importantly at the moment, the life of his client.

His client was an idiot, however. His client stood in a panic and gestured frantically over at the buyer. “Kill him!” the client yelled out to Jinwoo.

Jinwoo had been asked to kill people before, usually during gang-related activities. He never followed through with it. He might understand his place in the world, his lower-than-dirt sort of standing in regards to practically every other person, but he  _ refused _ to stoop so low as to murder someone. He never wanted to end a life. He didn't want the friends and family of that person to feel the sort of pain and regret he felt at the death of his mother. He didn't want little sons or daughters to grow up without experiencing the love of a family member.

He didn't want people to fall into the same trap he had.

However, he wasn't given a chance to explain his feelings on the matter. The men were too riled up to listen, anyway; drugs and money, as Jinwoo had learned, certainly made it difficult to think properly. The buyer, in an effort to defend himself against the client's words, rushed again at Jinwoo, brandishing his knife and ignoring the crowd frantically trying to get away.

Jinwoo was still bleeding from his arm, and while he had his own knife on him, he didn't want to actually get the chance to use it. He cursed as he backed up quickly, trying to keep an eye out so as to ensure he didn't run into any of the panicked guests in the nightclub.

He tripped over a chair just as the man lunged forward, knife held tightly in his hand. Jinwoo's own clumsiness probably saved his life; the weapon slashed uselessly into thin air, and Jinwoo used the borrowed time to quickly scramble to his feet and put some more distance in between himself and the buyer. 

“I'm not going to kill you!” Jinwoo snapped. “Not unless you come at me again!”

The buyer scoffed. “Bullshit!  _ He _ told you to!”

“Just because my moronic client wants me to kill someone doesn't mean I will!” Jinwoo responded, and he glanced around the buyer's shoulder, ready to yell obscenities at the man who got him into this mess in the first place.

But the client was gone.

As were the money and the drugs.

Perfect.

“Besides!” Jinwoo continued. He gestured over at the empty table and raised his eyebrows. “Maybe you want to actually make sure you aren't getting cheated by that moronic client?”

The buyer spun around, and though Jinwoo couldn't see his face after that, he could detect the anger and sudden panic that shot through the man's body. His shoulders tensed and his head spun from side to side, looking for any glimpse of the client who had stolen everything. 

The man rushed off, and Jinwoo sighed heavily, taking the opportunity to slip away. He knew the nightclub rather well; he knew that the back exit would be subjected to less nervous guests trying to get away. He knew, also, that it would be easy enough to hide his wound – thank goodness for dark jackets – and all he had to do was linger about uselessly, acting as a frightened guest for a few minutes, before hurrying off.

The only issue, he thought as he tried to fit in with the rest of the guests, would be the witnesses that would likely come later.

He figured the police would come, at one point or another. They would interview a few of the guests that had chosen to stay, and  _ someone _ would be bound to notice his maroon hair, even in the dim lighting. They might recognize features of his client, too, or of the buyer, but neither of them had his name. They only had his description. 

He would have to change his appearance, if even slightly. He didn't think the police would keep up a search too long for a man who had neither the large quantity of money  _ nor _ the bag of drugs. All he had to show for his presence was a long cut in his skin that would not stop bleeding.

Jinwoo held his arm closer to his chest with a small curse, trying to make sure the blood wouldn't keep dripping onto the ground. He had to clean his arm and then change his entire hairstyle. He had to disappear for a little while, lay low until the entire situation blew over, and then he could go back to taking up small odd-jobs here and there.

For now, though, he grabbed his phone from his pocket and scrolled through his contact list, continuing to walk again when the person on the other end of the phone answered him.

“Jinwoo!” the man said. “To what do I owe this pleasure at this time of night?”

“It's not that late,” Jinwoo grumbled, shuffling along the sidewalk. “Ten, maybe. Do you have hair dye, though?”

The voice was silent, then it gave a confirmation. “Yeah. Brown, black, blond-”

“Brown will be fine.”

“Oh.  _ Oh _ , Jinwoo, christ, did you fuck this up?”

Jinwoo scoffed. He glanced up at the signs above buildings, trying to recall exactly where he had to turn. “I didn't fuck up  _ anything _ . The client was a class-A moron. Seriously. He got shortchanged, and instead of talking about it or giving the buyer less of the goods, he started trying to get in a fight. I ended up getting my arm sliced up pretty nicely, and then the client yelled for me to kill the other guy.”

His friend listened to the story before chuckling. “You're always the one that gets the crazy sellers, I've noticed.”

“Yeah, well, it isn't funny when I'm worried that someone will recognize me from the club. So I need my arm maybe wrapped and fixed a little bit, and we can dye my hair afterwards. I'm on my way over.”

“I didn't even give you permission.”

Jinwoo knew he could have easily come up with some sort of sarcastic remark, something smart and rude to say right back to his friend, but he was more curious with an unfamiliar shop that opened up at the corner he was supposed to turn at. He  _ knew _ , beforehand, there was some run-down barbecue joint that operated there, but now the sign overhead had been replaced and it looked like a busy restaurant location. He blinked and read the sign's title:  _ The Star _ .

It didn't  _ seem _ like the name of a restaurant, but as he inched closer, he could tell it was some sort of noodle shop. It was cute inside, warm and inviting. Jinwoo could see many bowls of noodles in front of customers, steam curling up into their faces as they laughed over bright conversations. Most appeared dressed nicely; others looked more casual. There was a tall waiter going around, delivering dishes to the customers, though, despite his height, he looked like a young child.

Jinwoo continued to stare, stepping even closer to the large glass window, until his view was partially blocked by another waiter who had come to clean up a table.

This waiter was much shorter than the other one, with a rich, brown hair color. He had plump lips and a little, curved nose. His eyes looked just as warm as the shop; rounded and tapered on the ends with long eyelashes. He had a small face, but each feature was portrayed so beautifully that Jinwoo couldn't help but stare.

He reminded Jinwoo of sunshine.

He reminded Jinwoo of  _ Sunshine _ .

“I found Sunshine,” Jinwoo breathed into the phone, and he ignored his friend's replies of “Jinwoo, what?”

The waiter glanced up, out into the dark exterior, blinking in surprise when he saw Jinwoo. They stared at each other for a few seconds, and Jinwoo could see recognition brewing in Sunshine's cheerful gaze, before he finally smiled.

His eyes crinkled at the edges, and Jinwoo instantly  _ knew _ he was right. Only Sunshine had ever displayed such a breathtaking smile. It was even better without the excess amount of clothing that had covered half his face. Jinwoo could fully enjoy it, completely appreciate it, and he felt his breath taken away.

Sunshine held up a hand, free of his ugly mittens. His fingers were long and elegant, clean despite his hard work, and they didn't hold the rough calluses that Jinwoo's hands were subjected to.

He waved, fingers wiggling slightly.

Jinwoo couldn't help but smile back, and he saw Sunshine giggle through the window. He held up his left hand and wiggled his own fingers, reminiscent of the wave he had given just hours ago.

But Sunshine didn't look so pleased anymore. Sunshine's face morphed into one of horror, and he gasped, pointing over at Jinwoo's hand.

Jinwoo quickly drew his hand away, only then remembering that he had been bleeding rather heavily, and his hand was still covered in the blood that had been dripping down his arm. He bit down on his lip and glanced up once at Sunshine's concerned expression, before bowing quickly and hurrying off, rounding the corner and taking longer strides down the street.

He heard his name being called and he panicked for a second, thinking Sunshine was following him, but then he felt the phone at his ear jostle under his hurried movements.

“Sorry,” he breathed out.”What's up?”

“You were quiet for, like, a full minute!” his friend exclaimed.

“It was  _ not _ a full minute,” Jinwoo argued, his heart racing in his chest. He couldn't believe he found Sunshine, and he couldn't believe Sunshine had seen him in such a state. He was an idiot. He felt more moronic than his client had been.

“What's this  _ sunshine _ you found?” his friend asked, interested. “And why were you so silent?”

Jinwoo didn't want to answer, and so he didn't. Instead, he replied, “I'll be at your place in ten minutes. Have the hair dye ready, because I want to change the color as fast as possible. I don't want  _ anyone _ to recognize me, alright?”

“You have a unique face, it's not like people will forget-”

Jinwoo hung up his phone and stuffed it back into his pocket. He glanced behind him to ensure Sunshine hadn't followed him, then realized that he might not mind it so much if he had. He was cute and sweet, and if he showed that level of concern for Jinwoo, enough to leave his job and race after him, then Jinwoo might be fully smitten with this mysterious man.

But he hadn't, because it was reality and not one of Jinwoo's daydreams. Jinwoo preferred it that way. He didn't ever want Sunshine to see him again, because Sunshine deserved so much better than a man on run from the law.

Sunshine deserved the adoration from someone equally bright and lovely and perfect.

Jinwoo was not that person, and would never be that person.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter possibly we might have some interaction? or am i just teasing yall???? only time will tell.
> 
> please follow me on my [tumblr](http://www.vonseal.tumblr.com) or on my [twitter](https://twitter.com/nightmjare) (i comment more regularly on twitter now oops)! i'll give spoilers and updates and whatnot on either platform! i also post my update schedule onto twitter, so if you're curious when this fic will release chapter three, check there!
> 
> hope yall enjoyed this chapter!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **chapter warnings** : language, basically, that should be it.
> 
> hope yall enjoy this addition!

“So,” Jinwoo's friend started as he ran his fingers through Jinwoo's hair. “You found  _ sunshine? _ ”

Jinwoo had expected such a question. After all, it wasn't too often that he got dreamy or romantic in front of any of his friends, and Youngsoo was definitely no exception. Jinwoo was known for being rather stoic, a little tough to crack into, and he preferred it that way. He didn't want anyone to get to know  _ him _ , because, inside, Jinwoo wasn't the street-smart gang member he pretended to be. He liked cuddly animals and cute dramas. He cried over animated films. He preferred big, colorful sweaters to the bland wardrobe he had chosen to hide himself in.

Perhaps, then, he was so drawn to Sunshine because Sunshine was everything Jinwoo wanted to be. If Jinwoo were to be bland and boring, fit only to be a criminal, then he envied and cherished and adored those who were able to be the exact opposite.

Youngsoo's question didn't deserve an answer, because Youngsoo wouldn't  _ like _ the answer. He wouldn't like to know that, once again, Jinwoo was dreaming of a life that didn't involve his gang. He was supposed to be loyal, to treat all the other boys involved in the gang like family. Jinwoo couldn't bring himself to pretend like the gang was his family, not when he was aware of how wrong it all was.

“Because it's basically the middle of the night,” Youngsoo continued, pouring more dye onto his gloved hands. He was meticulous in his dyeing methods, which Jinwoo appreciated; not a single strand would be maroon-colored by the time Youngsoo was done. Everything would be uniform and perfect. Youngsoo didn't like to cut edges. 

“So how did you  _ find sunshine? _ ”

Jinwoo frowned at his reflection in the mirror. He was too sharp, too defined, too angry. Sunshine had soft, round cheeks and a wide smile. Even without the smile, he radiated warmth from every inch of his presence. 

“It was a joke.” Jinwoo waited until Youngsoo was removing his gloves to stand up from his seat. “I found a bakery. You know, that one close to the corner, near the shop that sells purses for old women?” 

When Youngsoo nodded, Jinwoo smirked. 

“I guess someone slicing your arm open really makes you crave cupcakes.”

Youngsoo blinked. “And...cupcakes is your sunshine?”

“Yeah,” Jinwoo lied. He glanced down at his arm. Youngsoo had provided him with medication and antiseptic and enough bandages to heal every wounded person in the world. His arm looked more akin to a mummy's arm now. Jinwoo marveled at how much bandage Youngsoo was willing to waste. “ I saw those cupcakes, and I drooled over them for a while. Nothing more to it.”

Youngsoo didn't seem convinced, but he was unable to ask any further questions. Jinwoo made it clear his was finished trying to explain himself, so Youngsoo just sighed and shrugged his shoulders. 

“Whatever,” the man mumbled. He began to clear off his countertop, then added, “You need to wait thirty minutes, then hop in the shower. Keep your arm  _ out _ of the shower. If you wet it, Jinwoo, I'll ship you right back to the club and let everyone know that you were a witness to a drug deal.”

Youngsoo didn't deliver empty threats. Jinwoo nodded, already dreading the thought of taking a shower one-handed, but it wasn't as if he hadn't done it before. He glanced down at his other arm, free from bandages but not at all free from scars. Sometimes he felt littered with them; in all the scuffles he had gotten into over the years, his body had taken the full brunt of them and he wore them shamefully. He liked to hide his arms with long sleeves, despite the weather, and when in the company of the rest of his gang, he never once felt like boasting about his scars as the others liked to do. For him, they were a symbol of how dreadful and ruined his life had become.

He was too scared to do anything to change his life.

Youngsoo only had short-sleeve shirts for him after his shower. Jinwoo was forced to stare at his arms more than he necessarily would in a day. 

Combined with the scars were a number of tattoos. Some of them were initiated by his gang, a way for members he didn't see daily to know he was on their side. Other gangs had their own tattoos with their own symbols, and  _ most _ men in all of the gangs would add on separate tattoos, as well, as some sort of rite of passage. Tattoos were painful; going through that pain meant you were worthy of a position.

Jinwoo thought it sucked. Nonetheless, he had other tattoos across his arms. They spread out on his chest, as well, his body becoming an unwilling canvas for the many whims of his more artistic gang members. He had a trail of thorns, a skull with a snake coming out through the eye, a naked woman with a sultry expression.

The only one he chose was the tattoo situated closest to his heart; a simple, minimalist daffodil. He told the tattoo artist it was for a girl he loved, a girl who liked daffodils, but only he knew the meaning.

Daffodils were a spring flower, and spring was a season for change and rebirth. 

Jinwoo wanted to become like a daffodil. He wanted to bloom again, beautifully, majestically. He wanted to be something that was loved and cherished. He felt more like a weed, more like the thorns that ran right up the side of his ribs, but he  _ longed _ to become a daffodil one day.

His other tattoos were meaningless, useless, and he hated staring at them and seeing what he had become.

That night, as he lay on the couch and watched, with little interest, the shopping network on Youngsoo's living room television, he wondered if he could one day learn to love himself, scars and dumb tattoos and all.

He felt Sunshine held the answer to that. Twice already he had seen Sunshine, and twice he had felt warmth and happiness overwhelm him.That was twice more than any other moment in his life since his mother had passed away.

Sunshine was special, then. Sunshine held within him the answer to end all of Jinwoo's suffering. Jinwoo didn't know  _ how _ , and Jinwoo wasn't sure really what could even be done about it, but he knew, the moment he awoke the next morning, he had to find his Sunshine again.

He ate a simple breakfast as Youngsoo double-checked on his wound. Youngsoo talked all the while, mostly about mutual friends and what trouble they had all gotten into, but Jinwoo hardly paid any attention. His mind was focused, instead, on Sunshine. Even remembering that sweet smile and the little wave was enough to make Jinwoo's heart beat wildly in his chest.

He had never been affected by someone as much as Sunshine affected him. No one else had ever wormed their way into Jinwoo's affections, especially someone who he had only seen twice before, someone he had never even spoken to.

Sunshine was important and special.

However, Jinwoo didn't want to bring any trouble to Sunshine's life. Sunshine probably lived in happiness and joy. Sunshine was, more likely than not, hard-working, strong, brilliant, kind, and  _ good _ . If Jinwoo became associated with him, then Sunshine might be tainted.

“Jinwoo?”

Youngsoo's voice cut through all of Jinwoo's daydreams. The young man blinked and shook his head slightly before glancing over at his friend. “Huh?”

“You're doing it again. You're thinking of something else. Or” — Youngsoo raised his eyebrows— “some _ one _ else?”

Jinwoo scoffed and drew his hand away from Youngsoo's grasp. He finished reapplying the bandage. “As if I'm thinking of someone else. You know I don't get involved with anyone like that.”

Youngsoo laughed and leaned back in his chair. “You  _ say _ you don't, but I've no doubt that you've got a pretty lady on the side. A guy like you? You're a catch, and you know it. So, who was it? Some girl you saw at the club last night? A slut who caught your eye? It has to be someone very pretty if she was able to make  _ you _ start to daydream.”

Jinwoo daydreamed all the time; he just preferred to do so alone, without an audience near him. He was stoic around his so-called friends, determined only to state his loyalty to his gang. There was no need for them to think of him as soft, delicate, fragile, or lonesome.

It was just that Jinwoo dreamed of a better life for himself, and Sunshine, suddenly, had amplified these thoughts. 

He knew he had to say something because Youngsoo was curious and was staring at him, so Jinwoo stood up from his seat and rolled his eyes. “She wasn't a slut,” he mumbled, and Youngsoo seemed satisfied enough with that response, if the grin on his face was anything to go by. He clapped his hands together with a little cheer, then smacked Jinwoo's back. 

“You should go there again tonight,” he suggested. “Take her home with you. Maybe she'll disregard your lifestyle and come to love you. Or, maybe, she'll even partake in it. God, we could really do with some more girls, you know? It's a sausage fest right now. It's tragic.”

“Yeah,” Jinwoo said, agreeing only for the sake of getting away. He checked over his arm once more and then continued, “Maybe I'll check again tonight. But I really have to get going right now. I haven't done laundry in a while.”

Even if his entire life had become dirty, he still liked to pretend that he could keep things in order, keep things clean. Cleanliness reminded him that he might not be  _ all _ that bad; he still bathed regularly, still washed his clothes when they piled up, still switched his pillow sheet out three times a week. Chores bore some resemblance to his past life, the life he had thrown away after his mother's passing. He felt that if he weren't reminded, he would cease to maintain even the small sliver of good that resided within him.

He thought, as he bid Youngsoo farewell and offered gratitude for his hair dye and bandages, that perhaps Sunshine also reminded him that he was still good.

Would someone so bad, so rotten, so sinful, actually fall in love with the epitome of  _ pure _ ? Jinwoo knew other men within the gang, men who had murdered before for selfish reasons, would only keep around whores or prostitutes and toss them aside once they were through. They didn't seem to have the capacity for  _ love,  _ not anymore. 

Jinwoo still loved. He still adored and cherished and felt affection. 

And Sunshine reminded him of that.

Once he was far enough away from Youngsoo's apartment, he began to jog down the street, stopping only once or twice to check his reflection in shop windows. His hair was brown, cut a little shorter in order to hide his appearance from those who might recognize a maroon hair color. 

He wondered if Sunshine would recognize him.

It might be easier if Sunshine didn't know who he was any longer. After all, if Sunshine was involved, Jinwoo was certain the boy's life would change for the worse. Nothing good would come if he hung out with Jinwoo.

But Jinwoo didn't want to stay away. Jinwoo longed to be near him. If they never once spoke and if he could hide who he was, it would probably work out.

He neared the noodle shop, slowing down cautiously as the sign came into sight:  _ The Star _ .

He still thought it was a cute name, and it definitely fit Sunshine's entire demeanor. He  _ was _ a star, just as the sun was a star, and he shone so brightly that Jinwoo was certain that Sunshine would one day destroy him.

“This guy will be the death of me,” Jinwoo whispered to himself, but he smiled, regardless, as he flipped his jacket hood over his head, trying to conceal most of his face. He peeked up at the shop, into the large windows, and pouted when, at first, he couldn't spot Sunshine.

After a few seconds of waiting, Sunshine appeared, holding a large platter of food and nearing one of the tables. He seemed to be talking to the customers, words forming around plump, pink lips, a grin gracing his face as the customers responded. He looked like he was laughing, maybe giggling, and then nodding his head as he placed the platter onto the table.

He didn't spot Jinwoo this time. Instead, he turned to the only other waiter that Jinwoo could spot, the tall boy Jinwoo had also seen the night previously.

Sunshine said something, and the tall waiter giggled, hiding his smile behind his hands. Sunshine looked pleased and then playfully shoved the tall waiter's shoulder before disappearing again into what Jinwoo assumed was the kitchen.

It was a short encounter, and yet Jinwoo felt more than energized. He couldn't help the extra skip in his step as he hurried off to the bus stop again. He smoked, waiting for the bus to come, and replayed the entire event in his head. 

He was addicted.

Seeing Sunshine brought an extra joy to his life that Jinwoo had never imagined he would experience again. It made him excited, intrigued, and enthralled. He needed that feeling to stay, and he needed more of it. After particularly rough evenings, or at the end of tense gang activities, or else just when he couldn't sit still, he would visit  _ The Star _ , visit Sunshine.

He never once went inside. He wasn't exactly the sort of clientele that the noodle shop wanted, probably. Instead, he stood off to the side, usually for a full minute or two, or until he caught sight of Sunshine. He memorized the restaurant's schedule, figured out when they were open and when they were closed. He knew the best hours to see Sunshine, the busiest times of the noodle shop, when Sunshine would be working extra hard to feed all of the hungry guests.

Despite how crowded it got sometimes, how overwhelming it must have been, Sunshine never once lost his smile.

Jinwoo never stuck around for too long, either. He would leave once he had seen Sunshine, and he was able to get through every day more cheerful than he had ever been before. It was an odd thing, really, and Jinwoo knew that he needed to keep it secret. He couldn't tell a single soul about his vice, his guilty pleasure. No one would understand, anyway, that the only way he would become happy was by watching a noodle shop employee do his work for a minute or two.

No one would understand, either, why he never even  _ tried _ to talk to Sunshine.

Talking would break the illusion, he decided. Talking would make part of his daydreams become a reality. Talking would  _ involve _ Sunshine in his life.

Jinwoo couldn't handle any of that. He was content with how things were for the moment. They  _ worked _ , and there was no reason to change it.

But life had a funny way of interfering and changing things for him. He could never stay in control for too long before life hit him upside the head.

Life did that by closing  _ The Star _ on an evening that Jinwoo was  _ sure _ they were open.

“What the fuck?” he breathed, staring in at the empty, dark restaurant. Things were clean and neat and completely untouched. Not a single soul milled about; no talkative guests, no sweet lady at the register, no tall waiter, no  _ Sunshine _ .

Still, he leaned in and pressed his forehead up against the glass, peering inside for any sign of movement, as if squinting his eyes would change anything.

Things remained still, and he drew back, confused and bewildered.

A note on the door finally tore his attention away from the window. He hurried over to it, reading quietly to himself:  _ Closed today for a family wedding. We will reopen tomorrow at our regular time _ .

Jinwoo scoffed and stuffed his hands into his pockets, staring at the note in frustration. “That's a load of bullshit,” he fussed, as if the note was at fault for ruining his entire day.

He wasn't quite sure what to do next. The reason he came to the shop was just to catch a glimpse of Sunshine, to warm up his heart for the rest of the day. There would be no warmth now, no cheery disposition he felt, no  _ reason _ to do anything. He was lost without Sunshine's presence, and so he lingered for the proper amount of time – a minute or two – in an effort to feel as if something was accomplished.

He could detect no change in his heart. The usual anger and sadness and hatred of the world lingered.

He sighed deeply and ran his fingers through his hair before turning away.

His gaze fell on someone nearby, someone with a few bags in his arms, someone who was bundled up against the cold with a lopsided beanie over messy, brown hair, a scarf pulled up past his mouth, and the ugliest, red mittens that Jinwoo had ever seen.

Someone akin to sunshine.

Jinwoo's eyes widened, and he stared at the man in shock.

The man stared right back at him, swaying ever so slightly from the weight of his bags, and yet, he smiled. His eyes turned upwards, crinkles appearing in the corners, and he stepped forward.

Jinwoo was frozen in place, unsure of what was going on, not knowing whether he was daydreaming or not.

But when the man spoke, Jinwoo  _ knew _ it was no daydream. Any dream of his would never do the man's voice justice.

It was soft, honey-like, and reminded Jinwoo of a sunny, spring day, of flowers and fluffy clouds and daffodils.

“You know,” Sunshine said, shifting all of his bags to one hand, freeing himself up a bit so he could grab his keys, “we're open whenever you stop by. So why don't you ever come in?”

Jinwoo blinked in shock and stammered out a reply, “Wha-What?”

“We're open,” Sunshine repeated, but then he giggled. “I mean, not  _ now _ , but you come by a lot. You just stand outside and then you leave after a minute or two. And I was wondering why you did that, because we're always open whenever you're nearby, and we serve really good food. And, besides, it's warm inside the shop. It's cold out here, and you never dress properly for the cold. Really, I do think you should come inside, at least once, and give our noodles a try. We have the best noodles in this entire neighborhood – maybe, if I can be so bold, within  _ all _ of South Korea.”

Sunshine talked a lot. Jinwoo didn't mind; he liked to hear it. He was just shocked that Sunshine was talking to  _ him _ , that Sunshine was close to him and acknowledging him and  _ talking _ to him.

“You...noticed me?”

Sunshine nodded proudly. “It's not as if you're being sneaky. You're literally right in front of the windows. Sanha's seen you, too, and he's asked about you. My mom thinks you're handsome.” Sunshine giggled again, a blush lighting up his cheeks, and he shuffled awkwardly over to the front door. After unlocking it, he glanced back at Jinwoo. “Come in?”

“What?” Jinwoo didn't feel very eloquent in this situation. Normally, he was rather well-spoken, but all words were lost when around Sunshine's bright presence.

“Come inside!” Sunshine reiterated, opening his door widely. “It's cold. I'll make us some noodles.”

Jinwoo's mouth felt dry and he was certain his ears were turning red from the humiliation of being called out. He was confused, as well, wondering why on earth Sunshine was talking to  _ him _ . “Y-You're closed, though. Aren't you? Sign says-”

“The wedding is over! It was very pretty, though, at this big Catholic church with extravagant dresses – the bride was beautiful. My older sister, you know! My mom cried a lot, but I just enjoyed myself. They had champagne and a big dance floor. The reception is still going on, but I needed some fresh air. And, besides, I had to buy some stuff for the restaurant. We were running low on our vegetables!” Sunshine was grinning still. “I want a wedding like  _ that _ . I want my reception to go all night long, and I want it to be gorgeous. What about you?”

Sunshine talked  _ a lot _ . “I...I should go,” Jinwoo said, but before he could even back away, Sunshine held out his hand, and that stupid, red mitten caught Jinwoo's eye instantly.

“No!” Sunshine exclaimed. “You'll come inside and try our noodles and then, next time you're walking nearby, you can at  _ least _ say for certain that you've had our food. Besides, last time we made contact, your hand was hurt, wasn't it? And I know that was three weeks ago, but I think a good bowl of noodles will still help your immune system. How did you cut yourself, anyway? I was worried.”

Jinwoo couldn't answer any of Sunshine's inquiries, however. Sunshine gestured for him once more, and said, “At  _ least _ help me carry this stuff to the back! It's killing my wrist!”

It was probably some sort of scheme to get Jinwoo to actually go inside; and if it was, it worked brilliantly. Jinwoo wanted for Sunshine to be healthy and happy. Jinwoo wanted Sunshine's wrist to be okay, so he didn't hesitate in reaching forward and grabbing Sunshine's bags away from him. “Sure,” he agreed, and Sunshine smiled widely.

“Perfect,” the man whispered as he pushed Jinwoo inside.

Only then, encased in the warmth of the shop and Sunshine's smile, did Jinwoo realize that he had just involved himself in Sunshine's life, which, in turn, involved Sunshine in  _ his _ life.

And, somehow, he wasn't that upset about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND THEY FINALLY SPEAK
> 
> please follow me on my [tumblr](http://www.vonseal.tumblr.com) or on my [twitter](https://twitter.com/nightmjare) (i comment more regularly on twitter now oops)! i'll give spoilers and updates and whatnot on either platform! i also post my update schedule onto twitter, so if you're curious when this fic will release chapter four, check there!
> 
> please await chapter four - i promise lots of cute myungjin in the following chapters!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we actually got no chapter warnings here. enjoy!

The shop was just as warm as Jinwoo had assumed it would be. He wasn't sure if maybe they just had a fantastic heating system in place, or if Sunshine's smile really  _ did _ manage to make everything feel all the better. Regardless, Jinwoo would much rather be inside, sitting at a table and admiring the décor, than outside in the cold all by his lonesome.

Sunshine poked his head out from the kitchen, where he had taken up a station after Jinwoo helped him load the groceries away in the large, industrial refrigerator. 

“Hey!” Sunshine exclaimed, gaining Jinwoo's attention. 

When Jinwoo looked over at him, Sunshine smiled brightly again. “Our noodles are cooking! I'm keeping an eye on the stove, but I just have to say, you  _ really _ don't dress well for the weather.”

Jinwoo blinked, then looked down at his clothing choice. “What's wrong with it?” he asked. He wore a sweater and a light jacket thrown on top – possibly not the warmest choice, but it worked well, anyway, for a quick walk to  _ The Star _ and back to the bus stop.

(He had to admit that perhaps taking an hour out of his day just to spot Sunshine for a minute or two wasn't the most  _ normal _ of ideas, but it made Jinwoo happy. Who was he to deny himself this one sliver of happiness?)

Sunshine snorted. “It's  _ freezing _ out there! You'll catch a cold if you keep wearing only lighter clothes. See, that's something I'd wear in the fall, not in the middle of winter.”

Sunshine wore a sweater, as well, but at least he had a jacket  _ and _ a coat, on top of the scarf, hat, and mittens he used to keep himself nice and toasty. Sunshine was prepared for the elements; maybe a bit too prepared, honestly, but he looked cute, and so Jinwoo definitely wasn't going to complain.

“What about the gloves I gave you?” Sunshine asked, leaning up against the doorway as he glanced over at the stove. “Why aren't you wearing those?”

“The ugly yellow gloves?”

Sunshine gasped, bringing a hand up to his heart in mock horror. “Well! That's the last time I try to be nice to  _ you! _ I shouldn't even be cooking you noodles, not after  _ that _ terrible statement!” He held up a hand, a gesture for  _ just one moment _ , and disappeared into the kitchen.

When he returned, he had with him two bowls of noodles and some chopsticks. “No side dishes,” he apologized, setting the food down on the table. He smiled brightly, still, and sat down across from Jinwoo. “Where was I, though?”

Jinwoo returned his smile and grabbed his set of chopsticks. “You said you shouldn't be cooking me noodles because I insulted your gloves.”

“Right!” Sunshine exclaimed, snapping his fingers over at Jinwoo. “We don't even know each other that well, and you have the  _ gall _ to insult my gloves! I got them from a sweet old lady who couldn't pay for a meal – she knit me them, instead.”

It didn't stop the gloves from being ugly, but Jinwoo could say nothing more on the matter, not when his heart was expanding in his chest. Sunshine allowed an old woman to pay him with  _ gloves _ . Sunshine gave some poor lady a meal, and her payment was knitted gloves.

Sunshine was the epitome of perfection, and Jinwoo was falling for him fast and hard.

“I'll return them, then,” Jinwoo promised. 

Sunshine shook his head. He poured some sauce over his noodles, then said, “You keep them. They looked good on you, you know. When you put them on, when we were on the bus.” 

Jinwoo blushed lightly and muttered out a quick, “thank you,” in gratitude. It wasn't often he was innocently told that he looked  _ good _ wearing something. Maybe the other men he hung around would jokingly say something about his clothes, maybe a woman would utter praises with an ulterior motive in mind, but Sunshine's cute compliment was  _ different _ . It was new, refreshing, and absolutely needed.

They fell into a silence. Sunshine slurped noodles, uncaring of Jinwoo's watchful eyes, humming in appreciation over the meal he made.

Jinwoo finally broke that quiet, asking, “Is it normal for an employee to just allow some random guest to come inside while the shop is closed?”

Sunshine glanced up at him and giggled; the sound of bells, of birds chirping, of a gentle breeze accompanied that giggle, and Jinwoo felt as if every trouble he had ever faced was suddenly lifted up and away. 

“My dad's the owner,” Sunshine answered him. “We moved down here recently and he opened up the shop. I named it, though. I said  _ The Star _ , because stars are bright and magnificent and each one is special and unique. I want this shop to be like the star of the neighborhood.”

Jinwoo nodded his head softly. He refrained from mentioning that the shop already  _ was _ the star of the neighborhood, if only because Sunshine was there. “And you just help your dad out?” Jinwoo asked instead, picking at his noodles with his chopsticks as he awaited Sunshine's answer.

The man before him laughed again and shook his head. “Not  _ just _ a help! I want to take over this shop when he retires. It means a lot to me. I can stay close to my family that way, to my brother and my parents, and I'll be cooking food for all the people around here. Everyone's so nice!” His eyes were sparkling, reminiscent of the stars his shop was named for, as he looked at Jinwoo. “And I want to get to know a lot of the locals a little bit more.”

Somehow, he seemed to be speaking  _ to _ Jinwoo. Somehow, this was about  _ Jinwoo _ , not about the locals, and Jinwoo was struggling to control his own flustered words as he stammered them out, “The-The locals? So, um, so you've gotten along with most of them?”

He wondered what the other members of the gang would think if they saw him now, nervous and anxious around some guy he thought was cute. It was unlike him; at least, he quelled any sort of romantic  _ feelings _ while he was around them, focusing instead on what they liked; girls in short skirts and tight shirts. He pretended that was fine and normal and  _ good _ , and when their eyes were turned, he daydreamed of someone else.

Recently, the only person on his mind had been Sunshine. He could not imagine having a life with any other man by his side.

Sunshine was answering his question, though, looking quite amused to have seen Jinwoo so flustered. “Yeah! Especially one...” He trailed off with a small smirk, then countered Jinwoo's questions with one of his own. “Why was your arm bleeding that other night?”

Jinwoo blinked, then realized he hadn't yet come up with a lie for it. He hadn't thought he would  _ need _ to, had never assumed he would get so far with Sunshine. It put him in the spotlight suddenly, and he looked down at his arm, hesitating on his words. 

He didn't want to tell the truth. Sunshine was sweet and gentle and pure, and he didn't  _ want _ to ruin his chances by explaining he partook in illegal activities. He hated admitting he was a thug. And if Sunshine got  _ too _ curious from a lack of proper explanation, he might ask to see, and then Jinwoo would have to explain away all of his tattoos, the gang symbols etched permanently onto his skin, the naked ladies and the skulls and crossbones – he didn't want Sunshine to see any of those. Nor did he want the rest of his scars to be displayed, a testament to his difficult times in life.

So he picked through his daydreams, trying to remember the good ones, and, as Sunshine cocked his head with concern, he blurted out, “I got caught on a fence.”

“A what?” Sunshine blinked; even when confused, he was still so cute.

“A...a fence,” Jinwoo responded. “I was trying to climb a fence to, um, to get a better...better view.”

Sunshine didn't seem satisfied with that answer. “A better view of what?”

“Better view of...a flower. A flower that was growing behind this fence, in the middle of all these bricks and rubble. A daffodil.” He smiled softly, trying to brush aside any previous panic he might have displayed. “I'm a photographer. I wanted to get a good picture of the flower-”

“A photographer?” Instantly, Sunshine's inquiries disappeared, replaced instead with awe and excitement. “You're a  _ photographer? _ ”

He hadn't realized Sunshine liked photographers so much. He felt flushed, pleased that his fake career was going over so well with the man of his dreams, and nodded his head. “Just...just a freelance photographer,” he fibbed. “The daffodil was for my own collection of pictures, though, not for anyone to really use.”

Sunshine grinned widely. “I want to see it!”

“The picture?”

The boy before him nodded his head with enthusiasm, and Jinwoo shifted in his seat. “Well, uh, I don't have it with me. It's...it's on my camera at home.” He noticed the smile beginning to fall from Sunshine's face, so he quickly added, “Though, maybe one day, I'll come by again and show it to you!”

He had no intentions to return, however. As much as he loved the chance to hang out with Sunshine, as much as he found himself growing fond of this man, he knew it would be selfish to keep coming back. Sunshine was sweet. Sunshine was pure. Sunshine had a future ahead of him, a family to care for and cherish. Jinwoo was the exact opposite, and if he kept coming around, the truth would probably come out at one point or another. He would rather leave while he was still in the early stages of his crush, before he became  _ too _ attached to Sunshine's charms and his smile and his bright personality.

“I hope you'll come back,” Sunshine murmured, propping his chin up onto the palms of his hands and staring fondly over at Jinwoo. “Because these noodles are too good to say no to.”

Though Jinwoo swore to himself he would stay far away once he left, he couldn't help but return Sunshine's smile and respond, “Not just the noodles.”

Sunshine blushed and cleared his throat once before ducking his head and picking his chopsticks back up again. “S-So,” he stammered out. “Your hair color is different from when I first met you.”

“Hm?” Jinwoo brought a hand up, feeling his hair. “Oh. Yeah. It's brown now.”

“I liked the red.”

“Me, too,” Jinwoo agreed, laughing slightly. “But, uh, sometimes I just feel like changing things around a little bit, so the hair had to go. I've had all sorts of colors over the years.”

Sunshine raised his eyebrows, stirring at his food. “You don't like to settle?”

“Not necessarily.” Jinwoo watched Sunshine eat. His cheeks were round and soft and his lips were pink and plump. He was gorgeous, even while slurping at his noodles, and Jinwoo smiled again. “I don't settle for useless things, like hair and clothes. I like to change it up. But, you know, when it comes to people, I'm a bit of a romantic.”

“ _ People? _ ” Sunshine giggled. “Just people in general?”

He knew he should continue his attempts to appear more nonchalant, to hurry things along and then leave. He  _ wanted _ to flirt, though. He wanted to engage in silly banter and light teasing. It would be alright, wouldn’t it? After all, he would stay far away from  _ The Star _ after this. Letting himself be in the moment wasn’t going to harm anything. 

“To be more specific,” he murmured,  “just people who want to take over the best noodle shop in all of Korea.” 

Sunshine nearly choked on his food, and Jinwoo laughed, passing over a handful of napkins for Sunshine to wipe his mouth with.

“I'm...I'm figuring out a lot about you, Mr. Photographer,” the boy muttered, setting his dirty napkins aside. “So you take pictures of flowers and get cut on fences, you like to dye your hair and change your clothes, and you're the most flirty customer I've ever had the pleasure of meeting.”

Jinwoo rather liked  _ that _ portrayal of himself, rather than the one he usually heard:  _ good-for-nothing, lowlife, sinful, gangster, thug _ . He always wanted someone to find him flirty and interesting. He wanted someone to discover more than what he showed on the surface.

Perhaps it was because he never showed Sunshine exactly what was on his surface. He allowed Sunshine to peel back a few layers deeper, opening himself up. He was vulnerable and free and he never felt more alive.

“I like to take pictures of people, too,” Jinwoo boldly stated, and while Sunshine looked curious, Jinwoo held up his hands, wrapping them around an invisible camera. “But you need to smile, Sunshine.”

The nickname came out before he could stop it, and Sunshine didn't comment on it at first. Instead, he beamed, giggling, his cheeks flushed again and his eyes turned upwards into crescent moons with his wide smile.

Jinwoo's heart nearly escaped his chest, and he had to calm his breathing before whispering, “Click.”

Once he put down his pretend camera, Sunshine clapped his hands together, the grin never once leaving his face. “Sunshine?” he asked.

Jinwoo knew it would bite him in the ass the moment he muttered it, so he quickly tried to do damage control. “I...I just thought, um...I mean, I didn't know your name, and-and your yellow gloves and...” He gestured to Sunshine's smile, as wide and as bright as it was, then mumbled, “You remind me of sun.”

Sunshine was quiet for a few seconds, seeming to just admire Jinwoo, and then he took a deep breath and sighed. “No one's ever told me I look like the sun before.”

Jinwoo found that hard to believe. “Really?” he asked.

Sunshine nodded his head. “I've been told I look a little feminine, or too cute to be a guy, or  _ short _ – that's the worst one. But never...never  _ sunshine _ .” He ran his fingers through his hair. “Feels nice.”

While Jinwoo knew he should no longer be flirting with Sunshine, it made him happy to know that he was able to brighten up this man's day. He wanted to continue to do so, to return what Sunshine had given him.

“If you need a name, though,” Sunshine said, “it's Kim Myungjun.”

It was nice to finally put a name to the face. Myungjun  _ fit _ , too. It rolled off the tongue and, as Jinwoo repeated it, made him smile. He felt closer, somehow, to this man, and he wanted to continue to befriend him and get to know him.

“I like Sunshine a lot, though,” Jinwoo replied.

Myungjun laughed. “I won't stop you from calling me that!” he announced. “But I need a name for you, too. I can't keep calling you Mr. Photographer. I'm not as creative with my nicknames as you are, apparently.”

“Mr. Photographer is cute, though,” came Jinwoo's protest, but he certainly agreed. It would be nice, regardless, to have some sort of connection to Myungjun, a first-name basis. He wanted this, more than anything he had wanted before, and while he tried to remind himself of the consequences that would come about from being too close, he still had to blurt out his name. “I'm Park Jinwoo.”

Somehow, Myungjun seemed all the happier to discover Jinwoo's name. He straightened up in his chair, as if excited Jinwoo had delivered useful information, and he, too, repeated Jinwoo's name, just as Jinwoo had repeated his own.

“A lot different from  _ Mr. Photographer _ ,” Myungjun said. “But I like it more, I think.”

Jinwoo nodded his head, hiding his smile with another bite of noodles.

They fell into a comfortable silence as they finished their meals, only the sounds of their chopsticks hitting bowls echoing through the otherwise empty shop location. It took a few minutes for the quiet to be broken, by Myungjun sighing in content. “That was good, but I'm pretty good with noodles. Aren't I, Jinwoo? Aren't these your most  _ favorite _ noodles in existence now?”

“Of course they are,” Jinwoo responded, and he nodded his head seriously. “I won't go to any other noodle shop except yours.”

“Not mine  _ yet _ .” 

Myungjun stood from his position and collected his empty bowl, then pointed to Jinwoo's, wordlessly asking if he was done. Jinwoo didn't allow him to take it, though. He grabbed it himself, following Myungjun back into the kitchen. 

“But one day I'll own it,” Myungjun continued. “Maybe I should rename it to  _ The Sunshine _ , though. What do you think?”

Jinwoo stuck his bowl in the sink as Myungjun cleaned them. He leaned up against one of the stoves and watched the man. Myungjun had his sleeves rolled up, revealing tanned skin, clear and flawless. He had hardly any muscle, it seemed, but Jinwoo liked that about Myungjun. He liked the soft curves and lack of sharp angles. He liked the clean skin, freed from tattoos and scars. His gaze traveled upwards, staring at Myungjun's side profile, at the curve of his little nose and the pout his lips gave as he concentrated. Myungjun's ears had no piercings, unlike Jinwoo's, and his eyes were a softer brown, tapered out at the ends, round and full and sparkling with joy.

Every single bit of him was gorgeous, and Jinwoo forced himself out of his dazed state as Myungjun wiped his hands on a towel and pulled his sleeves back down.

“I should be heading off,” Jinwoo stated, a little awkwardly, taking one step back. “It's...it's late.  _ You _ should probably get back to your sister's wedding reunion.”

Myungjun checked the time, looking at a clock that hung on the wall, and he snorted. “It's probably ended by now. My sister gets tired easily, so she would  _ never _ let the party go on for this long.”

“Well...maybe you should get home to your family?” Jinwoo suggested.

Myungjun's eyes traveled back over to Jinwoo, a little smirk curling up on his lips. “Trying to get rid of me, Mr. Photographer?”

“ _ I  _ can't get rid of you, not in your future shop.” Jinwoo laughed as they made their way back to the dining room. He grabbed his thin jacket, pulling it around his frame and straightening out his shirt. “But I do have to get going myself.”

“Mm. Got some important photography things to do?”

“No. I'm just sleepy.” 

Myungjun laughed at his words, and he felt his face flush.

How on earth could he leave Myungjun after tonight? How could he force himself to stay away? If anything, he had become all the more addicted to the scent of noodles and vanilla and lavender-scented laundry detergent. He had become addicted to hearing the sound of sunshine, to seeing Myungjun's bright smile and equally bright eyes. Staying away would be impossible.

Fortunately, Jinwoo was great at overcoming the impossible. He just would have to busy himself elsewhere, involve himself more in illicit activities and schemes, and pretend Myungjun didn't exist.

For now, though, as they stepped outside, Jinwoo waited for Myungjun to lock the door to the shop and the pull his red mittens right back onto his hands.

“Those mittens are ugly,” Jinwoo murmured.

Myungjun pouted and lightly shoved him, and Jinwoo laughed.

For now, as he and Myungjun headed down the street together, silent, each one ready to part ways at the next corner, he would allow himself to soak in the warmth that Sunshine had to offer.

Because tomorrow, it would be dark and dreary for the rest of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i promised lots and lots of cute myungjin - there's _way_ more up ahead!
> 
> please follow me on my [tumblr](http://www.vonseal.tumblr.com) or on my [twitter](https://twitter.com/nightmjare) (i comment more regularly on twitter now oops)! i'll give spoilers and updates and whatnot on either platform! i also post my update schedule onto twitter, so if you're curious when this fic will release chapter five, check there!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no warnings in this chapter, either! :D

Jinwoo hadn't been to  _ The Star _ in a few days.

And those few days had been dreadful.

He missed stopping outside of the window and staring in at the warmth. He missed the smell of home-cooked meals and lavender-scented detergent and vanilla. Most of all, he missed  _ Sunshine _ , Kim Myungjun, talking to him and laughing with him and treating him as if he was the most important person in all the world.

They had only met once, and it left such an impact on Jinwoo. He was addicted like never before, and it was with great difficulty that he had to pull himself away and break the addiction. He would rather quit cigarettes, he decided, than he would Myungjun.

But, in the end, he  _ had _ to stop seeing Myungjun, if only for the boy's own safety and happiness. That was the addiction he had to break.

So he just smoked more, punishing his own psyche for making such a decision.

The smoke, combined with the sharp smell of the bitter cold morning, gave him a peace of mind as he waited for the bus. It was early, earlier than he would have liked, but such things were necessary. He had to meet up with a few friends who lived further away, and he had awoken hours before his alarm was set to chime, a nightmare still churning in his head.

He missed his mother, and her death replayed over and over again in his mind, haunting his dreams as well as his waking moments. Staying home alone, with a picture of her on his bedside table, was almost a mockery. He had to escape, to breathe again outside of the oppressive stench of disappointment that lingered all throughout his tiny apartment space.

He hated himself most days; he convinced himself, too, that his mom also hated him.

Jinwoo sighed, breathing smoke out of his mouth and removing his cigarette. Outside, as he shivered and smoked, he didn't have to face his mother's gaze, permanently etched onto the photograph. He could live a little, feel  _ free _ a little, and pretend all things were alright.

He could imagine he was someone else, and as he stepped onto the bus, cigarette discarded onto the ground, he liked to think that maybe he could actually  _ be _ a photographer, just as he told Myungjun he was. A photographer would have such an exciting job. Jinwoo loved the images he found in nature magazines that were tossed onto chairs in waiting rooms. He marveled at the experiences photographers must go through in order to get the perfect shot. It would be exciting and new, unique and important, and Jinwoo imagined himself trekking through forests or wading through rivers, searching for  _ the _ photograph that would make his career all worthwhile.

It would have to be a solo position, he told himself, and yet his brain inserted in Kim Myungjun.

What he wouldn't give to take a picture of his Sunshine.

The only photograph  _ worth _ taking, really, would be of Kim Myungjun. Jinwoo imagined an entire magazine filled with such images, of Myungjun smiling at him just as he had done at the noodle shop, of Myungjun laughing loudly, of Myungjun bundled up in winter clothing and braving the cold in order to shine his light on all whom he met.

A magazine filled only with pictures of Myungjun would be perfect, and Jinwoo would like to be the one to publish it.

The bus crawled to another stop. People were slow in getting off and slower in getting on, and Jinwoo watched all of the newcomers with vague interest, wondering of their lives. What caused them to get on the bus so early? Were they happy, or were they at war with the world, as Jinwoo was, stuck in unfair situations with no way of getting out?

Were they cold, or did they  _ enjoy _ the cold?

Regardless, Jinwoo envied them all. The bus jolted as it started to roll down the street, and Jinwoo sighed loudly, leaning up against the bus window and closing his eyes.

He liked to imagine he was anyone but himself.

He would be the young mother that sat in front of him, he thought as he peeked through half-lidded eyes, yawning in order to ward off sleep. She probably had an okay life. Or maybe the older gentleman that sat in the seats across his own. Or maybe, the young man all bundled up and staring right back at him.

Maybe Myungjun.

He blinked, and he noticed the man's familiar eyes turn up in a smile.

Maybe Myungjun.

As the bus slowed down, coming to a red light, the man hurried from his seat, located further from Jinwoo, and began to walk down the aisle, grabbing onto railings and handles in order to keep his balance.

It  _ was _ Myungjun, Jinwoo realized as the man drew all the closer. It was Sunshine, it was the one person Jinwoo longed to see and the one person Jinwoo  _ couldn't _ see.

Myungjun sat down in the empty space right beside Jinwoo. Their knees touched and Jinwoo jerked away, though, thankfully, his movements went unnoticed by Myungjun, who instantly greeted Jinwoo with a cheery, “Good morning, Mr. Photographer!”

It wasn't  _ supposed _ to happen. Myungjun was not supposed to reappear back in Jinwoo's life. Jinwoo had been breaking his addiction to Sunshine, slowly but steadily, and he had never expected the clouds to suddenly disappear, the gray skies to suddenly become bright again. He had been telling himself to be comfortable in the dark.

And, yet, the moment he heard Myungjun speak, Jinwoo had fallen back into his addiction to the sun.

“G-Good morning, Sunshine,” Jinwoo responded, and his reply made Myungjun beam from behind his thick scarf. The boy pulled down at the fabric, and Jinwoo noticed he was wearing the ugly, red mittens once again. 

He knew he shouldn't comment. He knew he should remain silent so as to cause a divide between himself and Myungjun, and, yet, he couldn't help it. He was drawn into Myungjun's charm, his sweet character, his gentle nature. He wanted to hear the boy talk, wanted to become a close friend, wanted to become  _ something more _ .

And so he spoke. “Are you still wearing those ugly things?”

Myungjun had succeeded in pulling his scarf down slightly, revealing his cute, pink lips once more. He pouted with Jinwoo's words, giving a small scoff as he defended, “These mittens are  _ warm _ , Jinwoo! My fingers won't get frozen with these. Not like your fingers probably are.” He gestured to Jinwoo's hands, glove-less and cold. “Are they feeling frozen?”

“No,” Jinwoo lied, crossing his arms across his chest and clearing his throat. When he noticed Myungjun raise an eyebrow at him, he clarified, “They're warm now that the bus has heat.”

Myungjun giggled. “I gave you those gloves for no reason, I guess, since you won't even put them on.”

“I put them on  _ sometimes! _ ” Jinwoo exclaimed. “Just...just not today. I wasn't expecting to run into you today.”

He really hadn't expected Myungjun to climb onto the bus in the morning. Though, thinking it through, that was how they originally met; same times, same bus, same smiles and expressions.

Jinwoo cursed himself. He wondered if, subconsciously, he had hoped for this sort of thing to happen.

“I'm almost always on the bus at this time,” Myungjun responded, seeming very content despite Jinwoo's lack of gloves. “I like to prepare the shop before we open.”

“At eleven, right?” Jinwoo blurted out. When Myungjun stared at him in confusion, Jinwoo realized how  _ silly _ he had sounded, just suddenly saying random times. And, even as he tried to explain himself, he realized that he still just sounded ridiculous. “I mean...your shop opens at eleven, doesn't it?”

He also wondered if he sounded too much like a stalker.

But Myungjun didn't seem to think so. Myungjun just gave a small, “Ohh!” before continuing, “Yeah! We open at eleven. So arriving early gives me a few hours to just make sure everything is in order, to prep the foods and order whatever we're low on. Sanha comes in a little bit later, and my parents come to help out in the evenings.”

Jinwoo blinked. “Sanha?” he asked, and he instantly imagined the taller, younger waiter. “Oh. Is that, um, is that your brother?”

Myungjun nodded excitedly. “Yeah! My baby brother! He's a giant, isn't he? I guess he ate all of his vegetables as a child. And...” But the cheery look on Myungjun's face began to fall as he stared out the window, voice trailing off. When Jinwoo followed his train of sight, he realized why the sudden change of attitude.

Myungjun's stop was approaching.

Jinwoo recognized the street as the one he had perused for days and days, the one that led him straight to  _ The Star _ . And so he recognized the end of his conversation with Myungjun.

He would have to stop getting on the early bus. He would have to stop  _ wanting _ to meet up with Myungjun so desperately. He needed to break the addiction and live life as he had before he ever met his Sunshine.

But then Myungjun nudged him and said, “I could use help opening the shop.”

Jinwoo glanced at him in surprise. “What?”

Myungjun didn't exactly answer his question. “Do you have anything to do today, Jinwoo?”

Jinwoo thought of his friends awaiting his arrival. He thought of alcohol and cigarettes and drugs. He thought of spray-paint cans and glass bottles and neon lights.

He shook his head, already wondering just how much trouble he would be in with all of the people he had promised he'd see. “I don't,” he assured. “I was just going to the...frame shop. For frames.” He assumed that's what photographers did. “But I don't necessarily need a frame at the moment. I can go later, if something more important arises.”

The bus stopped, brakes screeching slightly, and Myungjun stood from his seat, a small smile playing on his lips. “And is this something important?” he asked, moving out into the aisle. 

Jinwoo glanced out the window. He could see  _ The Star _ down the street. Its warmth was so close, its proximity to Sunshine just within his grasp. He would fall back into his addiction. He would visit Myungjun as often as possible. He would freely love and laugh and  _ live _ .

So he, too, stood from his seat. “Whatever I'll be doing with you is  _ much _ more important,” he confirmed, eyes boring into Myungjun's face. 

The other boy blushed heavily and said nothing else as he scurried off the bus, Jinwoo close behind him.

It was probably a bad decision. It was something Jinwoo explicitly told himself he  _ wouldn't _ do. He wasn't supposed to get close to Myungjun, and yet he helped unlock the door and flip on all of the lights to the shop. He helped the take the chairs off of the tables, to wipe everything down with a wet rag. He swept and tidied up and admired Myungjun all the while.

Sanha came in, at some point, as Jinwoo sipped on the water Myungjun had provided him and straightened the pictures hanging up on the wall. Jinwoo was first to greet him, as Myungjun remained in the kitchen, and he felt himself smirk slightly when he noticed how confused Sanha seemed to be.

“Hi,” Sanha responded to Jinwoo's greeting, stepping cautiously into the shop. “Is...is Myungjun here, by any chance?”

As if on cue, Myungjun poked his head out from the entryway to the kitchen, grinning widely. “Sanha! My sweetest baby brother!”

Sanha frowned. “Don't call me a  _ baby _ . I'm almost done with high school.”

“Ooh, aren't you, though? And then you're going to leave me, your best friend ever, and move into college, right?” Myungjun hurried around the counter, wiping his hands onto his apron. He slung an arm around Sanha's neck, pulling him down slightly and giggling. “But I'm going to come and bug you as often as possible, no matter what college you go off to.”

“First off, you're not my best friend ever. Minhyuk is! And, second off, maybe I'll go abroad to get away from your stupid hugs!” Sanha whined as he tried to pull from Myungjun's grip, but it sounded as if it were all in good fun. Jinwoo felt himself smiling just from watching it all.

“Minhyuk isn't your  _ best friend ever _ ,” Myungjun complained, releasing his little brother. 

“He  _ is _ .”

Myungjun rolled his eyes and put his hands onto his hips. “Best friends don't normally  _ kiss _ , Sanha!” he fussed.

Sanha looked flustered. His mouth seemed to be forming words, but nothing could come out. Finally, frantically, he pointed over at Jinwoo, who quickly went back to straightening all of the frames hanging in the shop, pretending he  _ hadn't _ just been staring fondly over at the two brothers. “Who-who the heck is this, Myungjun?” Sanha asked, in an attempt to derail the conversation.

It worked. Jinwoo wanted to laugh. Myungjun was so easily distracted. “This is Jinwoo. He's a photographer!”

“Is that why he's straightening the frames?” Sanha asked.

As they were discussing him, Jinwoo felt it necessary to defend his actions, to clarify his position for the moment. He glanced over his shoulder at Sanha. “I'm straightening the frames because Myungjun pulled me off the bus and told me I'd better help him out.”

Sanha looked confused.

“I did not _pull him_ _off the bus_ ,” Myungjun corrected. “Don't listen to him. He's a liar. I simply asked for his help, and he came along.” And then, quieter, hushed and whispered so Jinwoo had to strain himself to try and hear, Myungjun said, “He's the one mom thinks is really handsome.”

“Ohh,” Sanha nodded his head. “The one  _ mom _ thinks is cute. Sure. Just mom. The one  _ only mom _ thinks is-”

Myungjun shoved him. “Go get your apron on, you idiot,” he complained. Jinwoo didn't spare a glance toward Myungjun until Sanha had left to the kitchen, giggling all the while.

Myungjun was bright red, patting at his cheeks and wetting his lips with his tongue. He looked embarrassed, maybe slightly humiliated, and just as flustered as Sanha had been earlier when Myungjun had teased  _ him _ .

Part of Jinwoo wanted to keep egging Myungjun on, to watch the expression change, but, at the same time, he didn't know Myungjun well enough. He didn't want to overstep his boundaries.

“He seems like a handful,” is what he commented instead as he fully turned to face his friend. When Myungjun glanced at him, shyly, Jinwoo offered him a comforting smile. “Your brother, I mean. Seems like a handful.” He sat down on one of the chairs by a table. “I've never had a brother.”

Myungjun nodded his head. “He's...a lot,” he agreed, and his blush began to subside as Jinwoo ignored the entire  _ cute _ situation. “Growing up, I was really only used to having an older sister, so it was new when I suddenly became the older brother.” He sat down across from Jinwoo and sighed, propping his chin up on his hands. “He's adopted.”

Jinwoo's eyebrows rose. “Sanha? Really?”

“Yeah. Mom had issues. Couldn't have any more kids, but she  _ wanted _ one more. So they adopted.” He played with a napkin Jinwoo had set out. “He was seven. Sweet kid. Really shy and polite. The first night he stayed with us, he cried because he was scared, and so I let him sleep in my bed with me. He's...he's been my best friend ever since. My baby brother. Even if he's a little brat, I still love him so much.”

Myungjun confirmed, over and over again, just how large of a heart he had, just how much of the sun he truly resembled. He surely brightened everyone's life. He smiled and loved and  _ lived _ , and it was everything Jinwoo admired, everything Jinwoo longed for in his own life. 

He couldn't help but stare at Myungjun, his eyes scanning the round apples of his cheeks and the little dip of his nose. He looked at Myungjun's soft eyes, his long eyelashes and thick eyebrows settled up above.

“You really do remind me of the sun,” he murmured, the words leaving his mouth without any thought. 

Myungjun looked shocked, and Jinwoo cleared his throat, breaking their eye contact in order to straighten up the forks that were out on the table. “In...in any case, I think Sanha really looks up to you. I-I mean, in just the short amount of time I've known him. In the, um, the five minutes I've seen him, he  _ really _ looks up to you. Teasing and shit – god, sorry-” The curse word had come out, too, without a second thought, and Jinwoo struggled to backtrack. “I just meant – I didn't mean to  _ swear _ , but – it just came out, Myungjun, but what I was saying was that he's...you two are definitely close, right? Close brothers.”

Myungjun, when Jinwoo spared a glance up at him, seemed amused. It didn't help Jinwoo's embarrassment, however, and he ran his fingers through his hair with a groan. “God!” he said. “Don't look at me, Myungjun, I feel like such a fool.”

“I like to look at you,” Myungjun declared, voice a little quiet. “It's...nice. Besides, um, I like to think you're correct. That Sanha likes me a lot. Because I like being his brother. I try hard to be as good of an example as possible.”

“You are,” Jinwoo confirmed without any hesitation. Myungjun looked hopeful, and Jinwoo laughed, “You're the sun, after all, and don't kids like to stare up at the sun?”

Myungjun snorted, his cheeks flushed. “It's too dangerous. You could go blind.”

“I would go blind if it meant I could watch you.”

Once again, his words rolled off his tongue before he could stop them. Jinwoo didn't curse this time, though he did bite his lip and look down at his lap.

He was saved from  _ pure _ humiliation by Sanha's arrival from the kitchen, holding onto a few spices and complaining something about pouring the all-spice into the noodle dish instead of the black pepper. Myungjun, who seemed as if he was about to comment on Jinwoo's statement, got up in a rush, lecturing Sanha about the importance of checking labels and tasting foods.

They teased and giggled and pushed each other, and Jinwoo watched with such warmth flowing through his veins.

He would remain addicted. He liked the way it made him feel, liked the way it drove off his hatred and anger and worries.

And should he go blind later on, he decided, it would all be worth it, just for the chance to stare up at his Sunshine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> angst is a huge factor in this story - but yall got a lot of cute chapters to wade through first!
> 
> please follow me on my [tumblr](http://www.vonseal.tumblr.com) or on my [twitter](https://twitter.com/nightmjare) (i comment more regularly on twitter now oops)! i'll give spoilers and updates and whatnot on either platform! i also post my update schedule onto twitter, so if you're curious when this fic will release chapter six, check there!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no warnings in this chapter - but they be coming soon

**I'll always love you and make you happy**

**If you will only say the same**   
  
**But if you leave me and love another**   
  
**You'll regret it all some day**

 

_The Star_ had become Jinwoo's new favorite place.

Whenever he had a break in the day, whenever he was not required to be around any of his other friends, he would visit Myungjun at his little ramen shop. Every morning, he woke up with determination to take a bus, to get over there, to see the one person in his life who was making everything feel brighter and happier again.

Soaking up Myungjun's presence, Jinwoo truly did feel as if the man was the sun. He was just so cheerful, so addicting, and Jinwoo wondered if he could live without Myungjun now by his side. He wondered, too, how he was able to live before he ever met Myungjun. He wondered if life was truly miserable, or if he ever _really_ felt any form of happiness.

He decided that, at least, he had never felt happiness to this extent.

Myungjun made him appreciate life a little bit more. Myungjun's words reminded him of spring, and Jinwoo felt a rebirth start within himself. He took more control of his life, because even if Myungjun hadn't known Jinwoo was at rock bottom, Jinwoo would rather turn himself into a person Myungjun could be proud of.

He rid his house of alcohol and of drugs and of anything brought about illegally. He cleaned things more, made certain he smelled nice and fresh whenever he visited Myungjun. He took more effort into his own appearance, though he _did_ stop wearing contacts after Myungjun commented on his glasses one day, mentioning how nice they looked.

Jinwoo almost gave up on cigarettes, too, though that was a far longer and more difficult process than he had ever assumed it would be. At the very least, he only smoked from time to time, and he made sure it was never on a day he was to see Myungjun.

He wanted his life to be turned around for the better; he _needed_ his life to be turned around for the better. And Myungjun, somehow, was the key to all of that.

On most days he visited _The Star_ , Jinwoo had a specific spot at a specific table. It was closest to the kitchen – not a desirable spot, Myungjun had always claimed, because of how loud the kitchen could get at times. But Jinwoo adored it, because it was the one spot where he had ample opportunity to see Myungjun. When he came out with food, when he went in with dirty dishes, when he passed around the counter to run the register, or when he simply had nothing else to do, he would always be near Jinwoo's table.

During the slow moments, or else during his breaks, Myungjun always liked to take a seat and talk to Jinwoo. Their conversations would range from a variety of topics, and Jinwoo learned a great deal about Myungjun's life.

He really liked superhero movies. He liked the idea of a good guy always coming in to save the day. He thought bad guys got what they deserved.

He loved cats. He had two kittens at home that he liked to cuddle and play with. He found them under the dumpster behind his restaurant, and after feeding them throughout the day, he realized they had no mother. He waited and waited, but no adult cat came to claim them, so before it got too cold, he took them home and cleaned them up. But, urged by Jinwoo, he also admitted to liking dogs, and basically any other animal in the world.

He did _not_ like bugs. He was terrified of bugs, and his mom always got rid of the spiders and crickets for him, if they ever trespassed into his restaurant.

He sang in the shower, loudly and, according to him, badly. He really liked seafood. He felt as if he was too tan in complexion sometimes. He liked heavy, oversized clothing, and winter was a perfect time for him to bundle up. He liked to draw, and one day, he wanted to draw Jinwoo's side profile.

He would ask, too, all about Jinwoo, and he learned plenty. Jinwoo revealed nothing of his past, or of his present, or of his likely future, for they were all too bleak and too full of illicit activities. Instead, he learned of the mundane things, such as Jinwoo's preference for dogs and of his adoration of spring, and that his favorite musical genre was hip-hop.

Myungjun ate it all up, every piece of information that Jinwoo had to offer to him. Jinwoo never had someone so interested in his life, so intrigued and curious about the small details, as Myungjun was.

It wasn't just Myungjun who became happy to see him, though. Sanha, soon, grew closer to him. When Myungjun was busy and Sanha had a break, the younger boy would sit with Jinwoo, inquiring about the piercings on his ears and the cool shoes that he liked to wear. Sanha mostly enjoyed talking about himself, though, about the problems he had. Jinwoo tried to offer advice as best he could, always pleased when Sanha took what he said into consideration. He never had anyone to mentor and guide through life, and Sanha ended up feeling like a little brother.

He came to know Myungjun's and Sanha's parents, as well. Mr. and Mrs. Kim came in during the evenings, and by then Jinwoo was usually gone, but sometimes he stayed long enough to greet them quickly. They always smiled at him, very warmly, and told him to come again the next day.

Jinwoo hadn't experienced such kindness and friendship in such a long time, and his heart filled with warmth and admiration for the entire shop, for the entire family.

There was one day that was particularly slow for the shop. It had started to snow outside, and the majority of people, it seemed, apparently didn't desire to travel with the first snowfall of the winter season. One or two customers came by, but they didn't stay for long.

Jinwoo liked slow days. Slow days meant Myungjun had more time to sit around and talk to him.

“Part of me thinks I should ban the snow today,” Myungjun commented as he finished cleaning off one of the tables. He plopped in the seat across from Jinwoo and smiled. “It's taking away all of my customers, I think. They're probably off building snowmen or making snow angels.” He glanced out the window, as the snow continued to fall, blanketing the world in white, then sighed, “But it's so pretty.”

It wasn't nearly as beautiful as Myungjun was, but Jinwoo decided against saying such a thing. Instead, he nodded his head. “Maybe later in the day, after everyone finishes playing around, they'll be hungry, and they'll come to the best noodle restaurant in this entire city.”

Myungjun giggled. The sound was gorgeous, and though Jinwoo heard it nearly every single day at this point, he still adored it just as much as he had the previous day. It was pure, charming, delightful, and it never failed to make Jinwoo laugh right along with him. “Has anyone ever told you, Mr. Photographer, that you are an absolute flirt?”

“No one, really,” Jinwoo responded. “Except for now, and that's really the only person that matters, isn't it?”

“I can't help but wonder, sometimes, though, how you haven't used these lines on anyone else before. You're too confident for me to be the first person you've flattered.”

Jinwoo shrugged his shoulders. It came naturally for Myungjun. He never could work up the courage, or the care, to talk to anyone else in the way he talked to Myungjun. Only Myungjun knew secrets that Jinwoo kept caged away, things such as his favorite flowers or his guilty pleasure for boy idol groups. He would never want anyone other than Myungjun to listen to these words.

“It's easy, with you,” Jinwoo mumbled. He cleared his throat and reached for his water. “Until you end up drawing more attention to it, then it's difficult.”

“Ooh. Will you keep doing it if I keep mentioning it?”

“I might get too shy to continue.” Jinwoo took a sip of water, though he never once allowed his gaze to stray from Myungjun.

The boy laughed again. “Maybe I'll have to stop bringing it up, then. I feel like I bring it up whenever you come by. But it's so difficult _not_ to! You're the most flirtatious guy I've ever met in my life, and I'm...I'm a little floored, honestly, that you're flirting with _me_.” He grabbed his own cup of water, holding it but not yet drinking from it. “No one's ever flirted with me before.”

Jinwoo found that hard to believe. Maybe it was just that Myungjun had never noticed, or maybe Myungjun had forgotten. There was no way normal people could go through life without actually falling for the beauty and charm and fun that encompassed Kim Myungjun. There was no way normal people could go through life without ever paying their respects to Sunshine.

Though Jinwoo believed everyone _should_ flirt with Myungjun, he was happy that he was the only one in Myungjun's eyes. He didn't want to share Myungjun, nor did he wish to compete for affection. He was satisfied enough knowing that Myungjun seemed to only like him, too, seemed to only have eyes for him.

They were perfect for each other, and they weren't yet a couple. Jinwoo would have laughed had he not just felt so comfortable hanging around Myungjun and flirting shamelessly.

“I'm not happy no one else has yet to realize how spectacular you are,” Jinwoo stated, catching Myungjun's attention yet again, “but, at the same time, I'm _very_ happy to be your first.”

“My...first?” Myungjun snorted, then covered his mouth with his hands. Voice slightly muffled, he said, “Jinwoo, the way you say it makes it sound really dirty! Can't you word it differently? It's just harmless flirting, not... _you know_.”

Myungjun was simply adorable, and Jinwoo laughed, though he felt his own cheeks heat up from his silly, innocent mistake. “Get your mind out of the gutter, Myungjun! I'm happy to be your first _flirt_ , nothing else. Nothing more.”

But he longed for it to be more. He didn't' want to just call dibs on being the first person to flirt with Myungjun. He wanted to hold Myungjun's hands, to plant kisses all along his face, to say _I love you_ under a starry sky, to cherish him forever and ever.

He wanted all of Myungjun, completely and fully, and he felt the sudden need to mention as such.

He considered it lucky that Myungjun had sent Sanha home early for lack of customers. It was just the two of them now, and Jinwoo was allowed to say whatever he needed. He was allowed to ask for Myungjun to become his boyfriend.

With the sudden silence and Jinwoo's hesitation, Myungjun seemed to expect something, too. He sat straighter in his seat, gnawing at his bottom lip and staring over at Jinwoo, his brown eyes wide, awaiting whatever words Jinwoo had to offer him, awaiting whatever question would arise.

The words were difficult to even form in Jinwoo's own mind, however. He wasn't quite sure how to ask for Myungjun's love and affection in an official manner. He had never gotten so far - romantically - with anyone before, and now, suddenly, he faltered in the midst of it all.

Had he really been full of the suave confidence that Myungjun admired, he knew the words could come naturally, but now he could only stammer out nonsense such as, “S-So, um, what do you think...when do you think, I mean, th-the snow, uh, the snow will stop?”

It was a stupid question, not at all the one he meant to ask, and he saw Myungjun droop ever so slightly, but no answer could be given. Not right then, anyway, not when the front entrance suddenly opened.

Myungjun stood from his seat and Jinwoo glanced over at the newcomer, noticing Myungjun's father.

“Dad!” Myungjun greeted, watching as his father shook snowflakes from his hair. “You're a bit early today, aren't you?”

Myungjun's father laughed and stepped forward, stopping at Jinwoo's table. “I had a new recipe I wanted to try out before dinner. I think it'll be good, but I need to see, just in case.” The gentleman looked over at Jinwoo, his eyes twinkling, and asked, “This is, uh, Jinwoo, isn't it?”  
“Yeah,” Myungjun confirmed, stepping back.

Myungjun's father nodded. “We've never been _formally_ introduced,” he mentioned, bowing slightly to Jinwoo; Jinwoo bowed more heavily to him. “Which is funny, because Myungjun certainly talks about you enough.”

Jinwoo blinked. “Oh. Does he?”

Myungjun's father gave a small laugh. “He's described you so much, I instantly knew who you were when I saw you. You're a photographer, aren't you? Myungjun said you take pictures a lot. I think he'd like to become your model for a day. And, if you ask me, I think that's only so he can spend the entire day with you.”

Jinwoo felt flushed from the man's words. Myungjun really talked so much about him? Myungjun really said such things to his family? It was endearing, especially when Jinwoo noticed Myungjun shushing his father and frantically trying to push him aside. “Dad!” Myungjun whined. “Stop it! You're being embarrassing!”

“Oh, am I?” Myungjun's father seemed to be enjoying the torture he was putting his son through. “Not as embarrassing as what you say about him, I'm sure. Jinwoo, according to Myungjun, you're the cutest person in existence, and-”

“Jinwoo!” Myungjun announced, tugging at his arm. “Jinwoo, let's go take a walk!”

He needn't say it twice. Poor Myungjun looked as if he was about to burst from embarrassment, and Jinwoo had to admit that he, too, was feeling a bit humiliated.

Still, he couldn't help but appreciate Myungjun's father, because Myungjun grabbed onto his hand to tug him out of the store, thus fulfilling Jinwoo's ever-constant dream of holding Myungjun's hand.

(He swore, too, that he saw Myungjun's father wink at him.)

It was a cold outside, but it felt good on Jinwoo's heated face. The snowflakes were pretty. The world seemed to be cloaked in a glistening light, with only neon signs illuminating colors other than white. It was as if they were walking through a wonderland.

Jinwoo had walked through the city before during snow and had never appreciated its magic. Not until he walked alongside Myungjun. With Myungjun, things were different. Things were beautiful. Myungjun was beautiful.

Myungjun was also cold, Jinwoo noticed, glancing over at him. The boy wore his uniform, still, a simple white button-up, nice jeans, and the black apron he made tossed on over it all.

The apron was cute, what with the stars Myungjun had painted on, and the beautiful calligraphy that spelled out _The Star_ in big, bold letters, but it wasn't nearly enough to keep him warm.

So Jinwoo tugged off his jacket. He was thankful he planned in advance and wore long-sleeves underneath his outerwear, or else he would have revealed his true placement in life. For now, though, he could simply wrap the jacket over Myungjun's shoulders, a smile on his face as he ignored the chill biting at his own skin.

Myungjun protested at first, trying to shrug the jacket off of him. “Jinwoo, stop. You _never_ dress for the weather, so you need this more than I do.”

“I'm used to this weather,” Jinwoo responded. “Stick your arms through the sleeves.”

“Seriously, this isn't right of me to take your jacket-”

“You aren't taking it – I'm giving it to you. Now, come on.”

Myungjun pouted and glared at Jinwoo for a second or two before realizing he was too cold to continue to argue. So he pushed his arms through the jacket, as Jinwoo instructed for him to do, and allowed Jinwoo to zip it up. He didn't look as bundled as he normally would in such cold weather, but Jinwoo felt a burst of pride run through him. Myungjun was wearing _his_ clothing. Myungjun was in _his_ jacket. It was cute, just like a boyfriend should be, and Jinwoo felt nothing but affection fill his heart.

And, with the sudden burst of affection, confidence was right behind that.

“Date me,” Jinwoo whispered, his hands still on the zipper of his jacket.

Myungjun stared at him, his eyes wide, face delightfully red. “Date...what?” he stammered out.

“Myungjun, date me,” Jinwoo repeated himself. He wasn't going to back down now, not when Myungjun was right in his grasp. “I'll make you happy. I'll flirt with you every single day. I just really think I like you a lot, and I want to-”

“Yes.”

Myungjun's words came out so fast, so breathlessly, that Jinwoo felt he hadn't heard correctly the first time. “What?”

“Yes!” Myungjun laughed, his lips curling up into a wide smile. “I thought...I thought you were going to ask me even earlier, but this is...this is fine! This is even better, because it's super pretty out, and I think I'll always remember it, but _yes_ , I'll date you!”

Jinwoo grinned, feeling a new happiness flood into his body, a happiness mixed with relief and with love and, oddly enough, with slight guilt.

Maybe, he thought, he should feel guilty for asking such a thing from Myungjun while still hiding who he truly was. Maybe he should feel guilt for dragging Myungjun into his own, ruined lifestyle.

But he knew he could make it work. As Myungjun gently took his hand and as they began to slowly make their way back to the ramen shop, Jinwoo _knew_ he was going to make everything work out in the very end.

He could hide who he was until he figured out a plan to break it gently to Myungjun, couldn't he? Or maybe he could find some way to break away from his gang, to live life freely, to love Myungjun without anything between them.

Regardless, he was a selfish man, and he wanted this happiness. He wanted to keep holding Myungjun's hand and to keep walking close beside him, shoulders bumping from time to time.

He wanted Myungjun to smile up at him like that, over and over again, as if _Jinwoo_ were the sun, and not himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> now they're a couple!!!! but remember, that angst tag is there for a reason ;D
> 
> please follow me on my [tumblr](http://www.vonseal.tumblr.com) or on my [twitter](https://twitter.com/nightmjare) (i comment more regularly on twitter now oops)! i'll give spoilers and updates and whatnot on either platform! i also post my update schedule onto twitter, so if you're curious when this fic will release chapter six, check there!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **chapter warning:** soft

Planning a date was nerve-wracking. Planning a date with Sunshine was the most nerve-wracking, Jinwoo decided. He would much rather face the risk of getting caught for trespassing on private property, or else vandalizing some shop, than he would make a wrong decision for the date night he would have with Myungjun.

There was no one he could ask, either. He had no friends outside of his gang, save for Myungjun and, maybe, Sanha.

“Ooh!” Sanha looked excited. It probably wasn't often he got a chance to assist someone with advice, Jinwoo thought. Usually, it was the other way around - Jinwoo always gave Sanha advice and he didn’t expect to need it returned. “Help with what?”

Jinwoo swallowed nervously. He checked to make sure Myungjun wasn't listening in or poking his head out from his kitchen, then murmured, “I don't know where to take Myungjun on a date.”

Sanha nodded in understanding. “I wish Minhyuk were here,” he said. “Minhyuk  _ always _ knows what to do about dates!”

“Your boyfriend?”

“He's not my boyfriend, despite what Myungjun might tell you!” Sanha exclaimed. “We just...we're very close, is all.”

Jinwoo refrained from mentioning that he heard stories, via Myungjun, of Sanha and Minhyuk exchanging kisses and going out. Normally, he would mention it, because Sanha was incredibly fun to tease, but he  _ needed _ help, and if he made Sanha too flustered, then no help would come his way. “Right. Your close friend, then. Maybe you should text him for ideas?”

“I mean,  _ I _ have good ideas,” Sanha scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “Like...maybe you could go to the park? Or the lake? Or out to eat at a nice restaurant? Or how about bowling?” He snapped his fingers, then nodded his head. “Myungjun likes to go bowling! They have arcade machines inside the bowling alley, and he always plays those when we go as a family. He likes to win cute stuffed animals from it. And they serve pizza there, too!”

“Bowling?” Jinwoo thought about bowling as a date idea. He hadn't ever been bowling before. His mother never took him in his youth, and by the time she passed, he was far too wrapped up in the gang to even think about enjoying himself in such a childish manner.

He wondered if Myungjun would help him bowl. He wondered if Myungjun would show him how to hold the bowling ball, maybe gently guide his hands along, and how to perform a perfect hit. Was a hit called a strike? Jinwoo wasn't certain. Regardless, Myungjun might cheer for him, and Jinwoo could already feel himself getting flustered over such a thought.

Sanha seemed to notice his pleased smile, and the boy nudged him. “So, you'll be going bowling, then?” he asked.

Jinwoo nodded. “Looks like it,” he agreed. “Thanks, Sanha.”

Sanha gave him the address to Myungjun's favorite bowling alley, one close to their house. Jinwoo did express concern that Myungjun might find it too boring, too familiar, but Sanha scoffed at that and waved off all of Jinwoo's concerns. “He  _ loves _ it,” Sanha assured. “The moment he finds it boring is the moment I learn he's not really my brother.”

Fueled by Sanha's enthusiasm for the idea, Jinwoo decided to go through with the bowling plan. He didn't tell Myungjun of it, either, letting it be a surprise for him.

He picked him up from his house, waiting outside the gate. It was a quaint little building, with flower pots all around and wind chimes hanging up near the staircase. It was painted a light pink color, definitely standing out from the other houses in the area, and had a whimsical feel to it, as if magic was contained within the small, wooden structure.

Jinwoo marveled at it, but when Myungjun came out, Jinwoo only had eyes for him. 

Myungjun was dressed warmly, in his usual big, puffy coat and scarf that threatened to swallow up his entire head. He wore a beanie over his hair and those red mittens on his hands.

He locked the door behind him, then hurried down the staircase, opening his gate and skidding to a stop right in front of Jinwoo.

“Hi,” he greeted, cheerful and pleasant. His eyes were turned up into crescent moons and he looked absolutely beautiful.

Jinwoo stared over at him for a second or two longer before returning his grin. “Hey,” he said, and he took his hands out of his pockets, wiggling his fingers at Myungjun. “How do I look?” he asked.

Myungjun gasped, clapping his own hands together. “You're wearing them!” he announced. Jinwoo most certainly was wearing the ugly gloves Myungjun had given him when they first met. He  _ knew _ it was a good choice. He knew, too, Myungjun would be happy to see them, and Jinwoo laughed a little.

“If I had known that all it took for you to fall for me was for me to wear these ugly gloves, I would've worn them sooner than now.”

“That's not  _ all it took _ ,” Myungjun argued, closing and locking the gate door behind him. “I thought you were cute when I first saw you, gloves or no gloves.” He turned back to Jinwoo and smiled. “The gloves just help assure me that you're staying warm.”

He was too precious, and Jinwoo smiled and held out an arm. “Here,” he said. “Hold onto my arm so you don't slip on the snow or ice.”

Though Myungjun took Jinwoo up on his offer, he still blurted out, “I'm actually really good with  _ not _ slipping, you know. My dad used to take us all to the mountains during our winter break, and Sanha always fell over, and my sister, too, but I managed to stay upright no matter what.” He puffed out his torso proudly; or so Jinwoo assumed he did, though he couldn't really tell, not with the heavy coat Myungjun wore. “I'm the king of staying completely balanced!”

“That's good, then,” Jinwoo said, linking their arms together as they began the walk down the pathway. “Because we're going somewhere that might be slippery.”

“Ice-skating?” Myungjun guessed.

“Nope.” Jinwoo had to store that idea away for later. He didn't know how to ice-skate in the slightest, just like he couldn't bowl, but he thought it might be a little romantic, holding hands with Myungjun as they floated down a rink together. He could find one with twinkling lights, too, strung up all around them, and he was certain the lights would reflect off of Myungjun's bright gaze.

Myungjun hummed in thought as they skirted a corner. “Not skiing, I assume.”

“I wouldn't even know where to take you on a date for skiing,” Jinwoo responded.

All of Myungjun's guesses were wrong, and most of them turned silly as he ran out of ideas of where they could go. However, walking down a familiar path seemed to jog his memory, and he nudged Jinwoo's shoulder. “ _ Bowling _ ,” he said; not a question, but a statement. “We're going bowling.”

“I wanted it to be a surprise when we came up to the building,” Jinwoo murmured, rolling his eyes, though he wasn't truly upset. Myungjun still looked excited, just as Sanha promised he would. “Is...is the bowling alley okay? If not, we can go somewhere else.”

“The bowling alley is  _ perfect! _ ” Myungjun said, tugging on Jinwoo's arm to hurry him along down the path. “I haven't been in a while. I've just been so busy since I started taking up most of the operations at the restaurant, you know, and I've really missed going out with Dad and Mom and Sanha.”

Jinwoo turned one more corner, remembering the directions Sanha had given him, and raised his eyebrows when they came across the small building with a neon sign of a bowling ball hovering over the entrance. “It's smaller than I thought,” he commented.

Myungjun seemed to know his way around. He instantly pulled Jinwoo away from the sounds and noises of the bowling lanes, of balls hitting the pins, and into a quieter area. “It's a cute bowling lane, isn't it? Also, it has the best arcade game ever!”

They were in the arcade room, which Jinwoo definitely recognized. He spotted a few games he had played before, sometime in his youth, and a few he had no idea about. The first thing Myungjun rushed toward, however, was the claw machine.

“It's tradition for me to win something and take it home,” Myungjun explained to Jinwoo as he pulled out his wallet. “Look! They have cute Pikachu plushies! One of them has a top hat – I think I'm going to try and win  _ that _ one.”

It wasn't a real date, though, if Myungjun won something for himself. Jinwoo was the one who invited him on the date, and Jinwoo wanted to be the one to actually win from the claw machine. He stepped forward and reached into his pocket to pull out his wallet. “Let me do this,” he said, removing his gloves and passing them over to Myungjun. He had to ensure his sleeves stay down, that they didn't roll up at all to reveal any of his tattoos; he didn't want his entire image changed on their very first date.

Myungjun cheerfully stepped aside, holding onto Jinwoo's belongings and watching as Jinwoo began the game.

It wasn't necessarily a  _ game _ so much as it was a  _ scam _ , Jinwoo realized as he nearly won the Pikachu. It fell from the claw's grasp, however, and he held back a curse.

“Let me try again,” he murmured, and he inserted more money into the machine.

The second time was a failure, as were the third and fourth times. 

Before he could try again, Myungjun gently nudged him aside, laughing. “You need to know the tricks to the claw machine games, Mr. Photographer. You're not doing it right.”

“Yeah?” Jinwoo scoffed and gestured at the machine. “Show me how it's done, Sunshine.”

As per usual, Myungjun lit up when Jinwoo uttered the nickname. It seemed to make him happy, and, in this case, it seemed to make him determined to win.

Myungjun got in position, his tongue sticking out slightly between his lips. He narrowed his eyes in concentration, and once the claw was hovering the correct distance over the Pikachu, he released it.

First time, and Myungjun won himself the Pikachu.

Jinwoo blinked in amazement as Myungjun cheered and grabbed onto his prize. “How...how the heck did you do that?” Jinwoo asked.

Myungjun snorted. “I've been doing this for  _ years _ , Jinwoo. Do you know how many plushies I have at home?” He looked at the Pikachu in his hands, then gained another smile across his face. “Let's take a selfie together! You, me, and the Pikachu!”

Unused to taking selfies, Jinwoo cocked his head lightly. “I, uh, I don't normally take pictures – I'm not very photogenic, you know.”

“Oh, hush. You look very handsome today, and you'll look handsome in the picture. Besides, look!” Myungjun showed him his phone. “This one adds on cute filters! Let's do the one that makes us look like cats, okay? It'll give us whiskers!” He handed his Pikachu over to Jinwoo, who held onto it awkwardly. “Pose with him! Hold him up beside us and I'll take the picture!”

The first picture was a little weird, a little uncomfortable, and Myungjun chastised him for it. “Don't look so nervous. I know you're dorky; open up and just grin or act cute. You think I'm cute, right?”

Jinwoo did, and he nodded in confirmation.

“Okay, and I think you're cute. So just follow my lead.”

He did, and the second picture turned out much better than the first. It was almost  _ too _ cute; Jinwoo had never seen a picture of himself that he thought was adorable. Though, in all honesty, Myungjun was the cutest thing in the entire selfie, in the entire bowling rink, and in the entire world. 

Myungjun seemed satisfied with the image they took, and he pocketed his phone again, holding onto the Pikachu he won for himself. “Let's go get a lane now,” he said.

“Oh. That's all we came to the arcade for?” Jinwoo thought arcades were for playing games and winning tickets. The few kids that were there on a late Wednesday afternoon seemed to think so, in any case, but Myungjun shook his head.

“Games here are rigged. I only come for the claw machine. If you want to go to the arcade, though, we can! There's actually one a few blocks away-”

But Jinwoo shook his head, interrupting Myungjun as he spoke. “I want to see your bowling skills,” he said. “I asked Sanha, and he said you suck at bowling.”

Myungjun huffed. “What a brat! He sucks worse than I do! I'm  _ amazing _ at bowling, Jinwoo. I'll blow your stupid bowling shoes right off with how skilled I am, just you watch me.”

But, as it turned out, neither of them were doing too well. It was Jinwoo's first time, so he thought he, at least, had an excuse. The shoes were weird and slippery and the balls were heavy and loud. They went into the gutter on his first few tries, and from then on out, they only ended up knocking down a handful of pins.

He was pleased that Myungjun didn't fair much better. He hit more gutter balls than Jinwoo did, and despite his assurances that he held his balance nicely, he slipped on multiple occasions. Jinwoo tried not to laugh at each of his failed bowls, but he couldn't help it.

Beside them, a few other bowlers tried to give pointers. They explained how the ball should be held and how the wrist should move in order to roll it down the lane. They talked about how stance was important and how feet position could determine the direction of the ball. But after trying their techniques once, Myungjun wordlessly bent down and pulled up the guardrails.

“There!” he exclaimed to Jinwoo. “Now we  _ have _ to hit them.”

In the end, Jinwoo won both of their games, and Myungjun decided a self-imposed punishment would be to pay for the pizza and beer.

When Jinwoo protested, Myungjun waved him off. “You rented the shoes for us,” he said, sitting down with their dinner, “so it's only fair that I give you something in return.”

“It's not really fair, not when I was the one who asked  _ you _ to go out with me. Isn't the one who asks the one who has to pay for everything?”

“Yeah, maybe if you lived a hundred years ago. But now, people are equal, and so I'm allowed to pay for things, too!”

Jinwoo didn't want to argue, not on their first date. Besides, Myungjun seemed happy to contribute money to their date, and he definitely seemed happy with the pizza they had to eat.

Their dinner was a short affair. They spent most of the time watching other bowlers, commenting quietly to each other on how their bowling techniques  _ could _ be improved, but how they were both too lazy to do anything about it. “If you combine our scores, we beat everyone,” Jinwoo stated. “So together, we make a good team. If we're single, though, we suck.”

“I feel like that's a metaphor for our relationship. Don't you?”

Jinwoo felt his heart pound in his chest from the smug smile that Myungjun shot at him.

He really couldn't get over this man. He couldn't get enough of him, either. They walked away from the bowling alley after one more quick game, and all Jinwoo could do was watch Myungjun. The snow had stopped falling, but even in the evening sun, Myungjun managed to shine. He waded through snowbanks for fun, laughed underneath streetlamps, and screeched when some sort of bird flew right by him, the flapping of the wings frightening him.

He was addicting, and Jinwoo couldn't get enough.

Which was why, when they stopped at Myungjun's house, Jinwoo didn't feel ready to leave. He lingered slightly, still holding onto Myungjun's hand. “Time flew by,” he mumbled, and he hummed before continuing, “Um, but you should go in. And you should stay warm, and-”

“I'll make you some tea!” Myungjun suddenly declared. When Jinwoo looked up at him, he could detect longing in those beautiful, brown eyes. “If...if you come inside, I'll make you some tea. So that way, you don't have to, um, to leave still cold. Come warm up, and  _ then _ you can go home.”

Jinwoo should reject the offer. He never liked impeding on hospitality. But Myungjun looked so desperate for him to stay longer, and Jinwoo didn't want to upset him.

Besides, he truly wanted to continue the date for as long as possible. He didn't want to be pulled from Myungjun's side so soon.

“You don't mind?” he asked.

“Not at all!” Myungjun responded, and he grinned as he realized Jinwoo was definitely swayed to now come inside. “I think Mom and Sanha are home – Dad's running the shop alone tonight.”

“He-He doesn't need help?”

“Nah, if it gets too busy, he'll call me, but I think he's doing fine at the moment.” Myungjun had to remove his mittens to unlock the gate, and he didn't bother to put the mittens on again. He simply dragged Jinwoo up the staircase, past all the potted plants and the pretty wind-chimes, and then opened his door and pushed Jinwoo into the warmth inside.

He could hear a television playing, gentle background noise spreading through the main room he stood in. Things seemed decorated in a cheesy manner, with old photographs on the wall and tables filled with a few books and magazines. It was clean, too, and Jinwoo glanced around him in slight envy.

He knew that Myungjun lived somewhere nice. He knew that Myungjun's family was close and tightly-knit, and obviously their house would echo as much. He just wished he had the opportunity to grow up as Myungjun most certainly had.

“It's a little messy,” Myungjun said, but it really wasn't.

“It's...it's fine,” came Jinwoo's response.

He didn't get much more of a chance to look around when Myungjun took him into the kitchen. The wallpaper in that room was a faded yellow color, but it still reminded Jinwoo of a house that was well-loved and taken care of.

A small table was in the middle of the kitchen. Sanha sat there, waving up at Myungjun and Jinwoo, and beside him was another young man. He looked older than Sanha, with sharp eyes and even sharper cheekbones, but he still smiled as much as Sanha.

“Myungjun, Jinwoo, hi!” Sanha greeted. “How was bowling?”

“It was awesome,” Myungjun replied, and he held up the Pikachu he still carried. “I won this for Jinwoo!”

Jinwoo almost missed the last bit of that statement, too intent on looking around at all the cute china pieces up on shelves and free spaces, but he jerked his head over to Myungjun in slight shock. “For  _ me? _ You won it for yourself!”

Myungjun just gave a small  _ tsk _ . “I have too many plushies. Ask Sanha.”

“He does,” Sanha supplied, and the boy sitting next to Sanha even nodded his head.

“And it's weird for an adult man to have so many plushies in his bedroom, isn't it?” Myungjun shoved the Pikachu plushie toward Jinwoo. “So you take him! Do you have any?”

“I...I don't.”

Myungjun looked pleased. “Then I can visit him from time to time if I miss him! But for now, hold onto him for me, at the very least.”

Jinwoo wanted to continue to argue, to try and make Myungjun keep the cute stuffed animal, but he  _ wanted _ it. He already had the gloves Myungjun gave him, but a plushie was surely a rite of passage into the dating life. He could keep it for himself, a reminder of Sunshine, for use when he was lonely or upset.

He nodded and kept a tight hold of the Pikachu as Myungjun prepared the tea for the two of them. “Sanha, introduce your boyfriend,” he blurted out, glancing over at his brother.

Sanha turned red, and the boy next to him averted his gaze quickly. “H-He's  _ not _ -”

“I'm Minhyuk,” the boy interrupted, nodding at Jinwoo. He looked embarrassed, but he seemed to be hiding it well enough. “I'm Sanha's...um...”

He trailed off, and Sanha made no effort to come to his aid. Jinwoo held back a laugh, and instead smiled at Minhyuk. “I've heard a lot about you,” he said. “Nice to finally put a face to the name.”

Sanha continued to groan and grovel in humiliation, even as Myungjun asked, “Where's Mom?”

Minhyuk, once more, answered for Sanha. “She went to  _ The Star _ . Your dad said that it got a little busy.”

Myungjun spun around and glowered at Sanha. “And  _ you _ didn't offer to go?”

“I was hanging out with Minhyuk!” Sanha whined. “So Mom said I could stay here!”

“And Minhyuk knows how to work in the restaurant just as well as you do. Right, Minhyuk?”

The gaze Myungjun gave to Minhyuk was challenging, but also slightly desperate, and Minhyuk blinked a few times. “Oh,” he finally muttered, then he stood from his seat. “Sanha, come on. We can make ourselves some noodles over there while we're at it. I'm getting a little hungry, anyway, since it's close to dinnertime.”

Sanha glanced back and forth between Myungjun and Minhyuk. He didn't catch onto the unspoken request, but he stood anyway with a loud sigh. “Fine,” he drawled. “You're a slave driver, Myungjun.”

“Yes, yes, I know, dork. Have fun!”

Sanha made sure to slam the door a little loudly, but Myungjun didn't seem at all perturbed. He finished making the tea and gestured for Jinwoo to sit, placing his mug in front of a chair.

Jinwoo broke their silence. “Are those two actually dating?”

Myungjun nodded his head. “Oh, yeah. Sanha thinks he can keep it a secret. They've been best friends since we moved here. Hit it off really well. He lives next door to us and he couldn't keep his eyes off of Sanha for the first week or two. And I think Sanha's trying to keep it a secret because he doesn't want to be teased for finally having a boyfriend. Joke's on him, though – I'll tease him regardless.”

Jinwoo sipped at his tea during the story, smiling into his mug. “It's cute,” he commented. “They really do seem to like each other.”

“Yeah.” Myungjun swallowed nervously, then cleared his throat as he glanced over at Jinwoo. “They do.”

And then there was silence again.

“You know-” Jinwoo said, but at the same moment, Myungjun started, “So, Jinwoo-”

They both froze, then giggled to themselves. “You go first,” Myungjun said, gesturing at Jinwoo. “You're better at icebreakers.” 

“I was going to say something dumb,” Jinwoo admitted.

“I like dumb, if it's coming from you.”

Jinwoo laughed again, then continued his original thought, “I was going to say that your house reminds me of something in a cute drama.”

Myungjun stared at Jinwoo for a second or two, then nodded, “That  _ was _ dumb.”

“I warned you.”

“I'd best start believing you with these things.” Myungjun picked up his mug and said, “I was going to say something just as dumb, though, so I can't really talk.”

“And what was that?”

Myungjun grinned shyly into his mug. “I don't think I want today to ever end.”

Jinwoo didn't want it to end, either. Jinwoo wanted the daylight to stretch on for longer, for new and exciting adventures to pop up around town suddenly, places he could take Myungjun to. Jinwoo wanted to forget completely about his life choices and the gang he was in and only spend his time on Myungjun. Jinwoo wanted this date to consume him for the rest of his life.

But, as cliche sayings go, all good things must come to an end, and Jinwoo supposed that was true for this date, as well. Myungjun offered to walk him home as they finished their tea, but Jinwoo refused. “It's further away,” he stated, pulling his gloves on and zipping up his coat. “And I don't want you walking in an unfamiliar part of town. I can get home just fine on my own.”

Myungjun nodded, though he still seemed a little nervous. “Text me, at least, once you get home safely, okay?”

“I will,” Jinwoo promised.

Still, he lingered, and Myungjun, too, stayed in spot. 

He had nice lips. They were a little pink, very plump, with such a pronounced cupids bow. They looked lovely and perfect.

Jinwoo wanted to kiss him.

So he gathered up his confidence from the previous days, pulled from his certainty in all his flirtatious remarks, and he leaned forward, his eyes half-lidded and his lips slightly puckered.

He stopped just short of touching, though, watching Myungjun's expression, ensuring that he wasn't stepping over boundaries.

Myungjun closed the distance between them, before Jinwoo could even gauge his reaction. He pressed his lips into Jinwoo, a soft, quick, chaste kiss shared, and then he drew back.

His cheeks were flushed, but his lips turned upwards into a grin. “Was, um, was that okay?” he whispered.

Jinwoo had never been kissed in such a manner before. Not sweet like that. Not innocent like that. His heart beat wildly in his chest and he couldn't help but also grin and nod his head in enthusiasm. “Perfect,” he breathed out.

They kissed a total of five more times, each one more perfect than the last. Jinwoo was regretting having to leave, but Myungjun promised him there would be more kisses.

“I think I'm addicted,” he joked.

“Me, too,” Jinwoo said.

And Jinwoo wasn't lying. He was completely, fully, one-hundred percent addicted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND WE GET A KISS HOLLA!!! how long will this last? :O
> 
> please follow me on my [tumblr](http://www.vonseal.tumblr.com) or on my [twitter](https://twitter.com/nightmjare) (i comment more regularly on twitter now oops)! i'll give spoilers and updates and whatnot on either platform! i also post my update schedule onto twitter, so if you're curious when this fic will release chapter eight, check there!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **chapter warnings:** language!

The next two weeks were some of the happiest in Jinwoo's entire life.

He and Myungjun had gone on a few different dates. Most of the dates involved relatively cheap ideas, such as dinner in a small restaurant or else a day spent playing at the park. When not on actual dates, Jinwoo hung out at the ramen shop. Myungjun taught him how to serve food, just so he could be of some help when visiting. It gave him something to do; otherwise, he sat around near the kitchen waiting for Myungjun to go out on his break.

He neglected his gang members a little bit in order to spend more time with Myungjun.

Even if they noticed his absence, they made no mention of it. He supposed it probably didn't matter too much to most of them; after all, they still get a majority of the cut from the illicit activities they performed, and if Jinwoo never showed up, then they would receive even more. From time to time within those two weeks, one of them might text, a very simple,  _ Jinwoo, where are you at? _ sort of text that Jinwoo always ignored.

He decided it didn't matter if his gang didn’t know where he was. They likely wouldn't approve of his relationship, anyway. Most men in the gang who were involved in some sort of love life had disclosed early on to their significant other the nature of their job, and the lifestyle they led. Their significant other was always understanding, and was typically from that sort of background, anyway. Jinwoo's relationship was different; his relationship was special. Myungjun was still very much unaware of who he was exactly, and what he did in his spare time.

Winter was still in full force, and so Jinwoo's arms were hidden from the world. His tattoos were clothed behind thick layers of sweaters and jackets. Even when he was a little hot from working and being inside, he never once rolled up his sleeves. He pretended the heat never bothered him, and Myungjun was none the wiser.

He felt awful, lying to a man he now considered his boyfriend, but he had fallen too deep into the lie to back out of it. He had even gone so far as to buy a camera, a  _ real _ camera, an expensive camera. He took shots in his spare time of things he found interesting, and while he was certain they weren't great quality by any photographer's standpoint, Myungjun loved each and every image. He framed a few of them, some of the flowers that Jinwoo had taken, and hung them up in his ramen shop. It made Jinwoo's heart swell with love and pride when he saw Myungjun pointing out the pictures to some of his regular customers, boasting, “My boyfriend took those! Isn't he talented?”

He sometimes asked himself, though, what he should do if things continued to remain serious. When winter rolled into spring, when the temperature became too unbearable for constant long-sleeves, what was he supposed to do? When he and Myungjun took their relationship one step further, when they were to see each other vulnerable, what was he supposed to do?

He just came up with more questions as they progressed each day, and the guilt churned and grew in his stomach.

It didn't make him feel any better when he learned, one day, that Myungjun had serious complaints against gangs, too.

Jinwoo tried to arrive at the ramen shop early most days. He didn't care much for sleeping in; he liked to hop on his early bus, the one Myungjun also took, and together they would ride into town and open the shop together. It gave them a chance to be alone. They would steal kisses in between prep, they would dance and laugh while cleaning and setting the tables. Jinwoo felt as if it was domestic, like he was playing house, and so he longed to continue his schedule.

However, he had overslept, and after waking up past the usual time his bus arrived, he quickly texted Myungjun,  _ Slept in too late :( i'll be there asap! _

Myungjun sent back smiley faces and hearts and reminded him to be careful.

The bus ride was lonely without Myungjun clinging onto his arm or wrapping him up with extra scarves. He had to sit next to some other lady who smacked her gum and talked loudly on her phone. It was very much undesirable, and he was squirming in his seat by the time he saw his stop come to view.

Once off the bus, he rushed to the ramen shop, a grin already forming on his face as he imagined just how much Myungjun would dote over him. Perhaps Myungjun would squish his cheeks and kiss his forehead. Maybe Myungjun would hug him tightly and make some sort of stupid, lame joke that would cause Jinwoo to snort.

Regardless, all he wanted was just to see Myungjun, and so he opened the door to  _ The Star _ with a loud, “Myungjun, hey!”

But Myungjun wasn't alone.

Standing right in front of his boyfriend were two taller men. They had hair shaved closely to their heads, and they both displayed piercings in more spots than just the ears; Jinwoo noticed one man had a piercing in his eyebrow, and the other had one from his lip. They seemed threatening, simply by their stance and glares, but Jinwoo noticed something else that stood out to him.

Gang tattoos.

Their sleeves were rolled up, possibly to appear more intimidating, and their arms revealed a variety of different markings. He recognized one, though, as a tattoo of a rival gang to his own. 

One of the men glanced back at Jinwoo, who quickly ducked his head and bit down on his lip. He doubted he'd be recognized; he didn't recognize the two men, and his own tattoos were hidden from view. He had dyed his hair since the last time he engaged any of those gang members, anyway, and so he should, by all accounts, go unnoticed. He just would much rather be safe than sorry.

“Is this another of your shit-ass employees?” one of the men asked, and Jinwoo could have cheered. They didn't appear to know who he was at all.

Myungjun, already bristling from their presence, simply seemed more affronted. “Don't you dare call him that,” he fussed, crossing his arms over his chest. Despite the fact Myungjun was clearly outnumbered, and clearly outmatched, he still stood his ground. Jinwoo wanted to coo. His boyfriend was strong and brave and stubborn.  “He's a  _ valuable _ employee, and a close friend, and I-”

“Then he ought to know, too, that we  _ won't _ hesitate to trash this entire shop unless you take up our offer,” the man snapped at Myungjun. “We won't hesitate to hurt him, either, or anyone else that works here.” When Myungjun refused to cave, the man laughed and asked, “What about that really young kid that's always here in the evenings? The tall one? The one with the red cheeks and-”

“I'll call the police,” Myungjun threatened. “If you lay a single hand on any of my employees, I  _ will _ call the police on you in an instant. You can trash this place all you want, but the moment you  _ touch _ an employee of mine, I'm not going to rest until both of you are rotting away behind bars.”

The men laughed, and Jinwoo understood why. Myungjun was powerless against them. The police, probably, would leave the matter alone, too. Even if they tried, it was unlikely the gang would willingly give up some of its members.

“Think about what's good for this place,” the second man scoffed, and he grabbed a nearby table, flipping it easily and sending it tumbling down. Myungjun's table settings fell with it, all the chopsticks and spoons and fresh flowers he had put out. A few of the chairs toppled over, brought down by the force of the entire fiasco, and yet Myungjun still didn't budge. His eyes didn't even glance over at the mess; he simply stared at the gang members.

Seeing how their threats proved useless against Myungjun, they warned him, once more, to think of his shop and the employees, and then they left, pushing past Jinwoo roughly and sauntering out the front doors, now laughing and talking to each other.

Jinwoo waited until they were a good distance away from the shop before making his way over the table and chairs and hurrying to Myungjun's side. “Are you okay?” he asked, though he knew the gang members likely hadn't even touched Myungjun.

Sure enough, the boy nodded, and he smiled over at Jinwoo. He seemed tired, however, bags underneath his eyes and gaze wary. “Yeah,” he murmured. “They didn't hurt me. Don't worry. They're just...just  _ assholes _ .”

Myungjun hardly cursed, and he glanced shamefully at Jinwoo before continuing. “Sorry. I'm frustrated. This isn't the first time they've come in here to threaten me, you know. They did it last month sometime, too. They come in and show off their gang tattoos, just to let me know how  _ tough _ they are, and then they proceed to threaten me a thousand times over.” He reached down to pick up one of the fallen chairs. Jinwoo, too, took initiative and pushed the table back into its place. 

“What did they want?” he asked, though he already knew. He felt guilt, once more, hit him straight in his chest. He had participated in such measures to threaten store owners, and he knew exactly what they wanted. It was the same thing Jinwoo  _ got _ from various stores.

“They want payment to offer me protection,” Myungjun responded. “If I pay them a certain amount, then they'll ensure no harm befalls me or my shop. It's just a nicer way of saying that  _ they _ won't hurt me if I pay them, I think.”

And that's exactly what it was. Jinwoo knew the gang would stop at nothing to get Myungjun's payments. They would come after him relentlessly, and the only way he could stop it was by issuing out a monthly paycheck. It wasn't very fair, but it was Jinwoo's occupation. He felt shame for what he did, but he couldn't say anything now. He simply nodded his head and muttered, “They sound like fucking losers.”

_ He _ was a fucking loser.

Myungjun looked at him, amused, then nudged his shoulder. “Don't be so upset,” he ordered. “I can take care of myself, you know. I've been handling it just fine. I think if I stand tall and show them that they can't boss me around or scare me into submission, then maybe they'll find easier fish to fry.”

Jinwoo knew that wasn't likely. As long as Myungjun's business did well, then the gang members wouldn't stop.

Still, he agreed. He returned Myungjun's smile, and once they cleaned up the mess, he kissed Myungjun's cheek and wrapped his arms around his boyfriend's waist. “I just want you to be safe,” he mumbled, He noticed the blush that came over Myungjun's face, and he laughed as he kissed him once again. “Don't get all shy and embarrassed. I kiss you all the time.”

“I know, I know! It's just...I feel proud, somehow. Like...are  _ you _ proud of me? Did you see how much courage I had?”

“So much courage.” Jinwoo pushed his cold nose into Myungjun's neck, securing a loud giggle from the man. “How did I get so lucky! My boyfriend is the bravest man on this planet!”

Myungjun lightly pushed him off, though he couldn't stop laughing. “I think you're better than me,” he announced, and he kissed Jinwoo again. “I know I was defending you in that instance, but if it came down to a fight, I really think you'd fare better than I would.” He ran his hands up Jinwoo's arms, squeezing the biceps. “I know I haven't seen it, but you  _ must _ work out!”

Jinwoo's heart raced as Myungjun's hands trailed back down. While he was protected by his layers of clothing, he couldn't help but wonder how different it would feel to have Myungjun actively tracing over the tattoos across his arms. Would he be in awe of the different colors and shapes and pictures? Or would he be more like Jinwoo, ashamed and disgusted with the display, doing everything in his power to hide it off from the world.

Would he still like Jinwoo if he were to discover what lay underneath his carefully-crafted exterior?

“I do work out,” Jinwoo said, deciding to tease and flirt for the time being. He wasn't quite prepared to detail just who he was and what he did. Instead, he wanted to keep what he had with Myungjun for as long as possible, to cherish him for an eternity, if need be, before his true self came into light. “Working out means it's easier for me to hug you like this.” And then he pulled Myungjun into a tight embrace and picked his feet up off the ground, swinging him around once before letting him back go. Myungjun laughed loudly, gripping onto Jinwoo's neck, even after Jinwoo released him. He couldn't stop giggling, plump lips pulled back in such a large grin that even Jinwoo found himself smiling.

“God, you're beautiful,” he murmured, bringing a hand up to sweep aside some of Myungjun's bangs. “Honestly, truly, Sunshine, you're the most beautiful creature on this entire planet.”

Myungjun, though clearly flushed from the words, slapped a hand on Jinwoo's chest and gave a small  _ tsk _ with his tongue. “You're trying to flatter me,” he accused. “What do you want? Breakfast?”

“Only if my flattery worked, sure.”

“What a monster.” Yet, Myungjun led him back into the kitchen, sitting him down on a stool and grabbing some supplies from the large fridge. “You're lucky I'm always prepared for you, Jinwoo. You're lucky I always have food on hand.” He opened up some rice and began to pile a few vegetables on top. “Correction: you're lucky Sanha's my baby brother, and Sanha's a growing boy with the most ravenous appetite I've ever seen.”

Jinwoo nodded his head as Myungjun passed over the quick meal. “He does eat a lot,” Jinwoo noted. “Thank goodness for that, though. Without Sanha's constant hunger, I guess I wouldn't have breakfast waiting for me here.”

Myungjun sat with him as he ate. Occasionally, Jinwoo would feed him, piling a few vegetables onto his spoon before carefully maneuvering it over to Myungjun's mouth. He would baby his boyfriend, wiping his chin and saying,  _ “Ahh _ ,” when the spoon came closer. It made Myungjun smile, his eyes turning upwards and his cheeks a rosy color of pink.

Not for the first time, Jinwoo thought of his current life, of how terrible things had always been for him. He believed Myungjun must be some sort of blessing, or maybe a sign to change his ways for the better. He never truly believed he was  _ bad _ . He was misguided, perhaps, misled, and he knew that Myungjun could very well be his chance to turn his life around.

But he didn't know how. He was so deep into his gang, so caught up in the activities surrounding the members and himself, that he was stuck. Getting out now would be near impossible. Besides, did he truly  _ want _ to leave? He wanted to stay with Myungjun, definitely, but he didn't want to leave a life that had become so normal for him. He was scared to face the unknown – he didn't know  _ how _ to face the unknown.

So he finished eating without wondering to Myungjun if things could ever be different between the two of them. He had no idea how far this relationship would go. He had no idea if he would be happy if it continued onward and if Myungjun discovered the truth.

Just like with his gang, he felt as if he had no way of getting out.

But, unlike with the gang, he felt as if he wanted to stay with Myungjun, not because of normalcy or fear of the unknown, but because he had never felt so happy before.

With Myungjun came a sense of unadulterated joy hardly experienced in his life. With Myungjun came a sense of freedom as he strayed away from his gang. With Myungjun came reminder that he was still a daffodil, and he could still be born anew in the spring.

“Hey, Myungjun?” he asked quietly as he washed his dishes and set them aside.

Myungjun, who had already started work on prep, chopping up vegetables and boiling hot water, glanced over at Jinwoo. “What's up?” he asked.

Jinwoo took his spot beside Myungjun and cleared his throat, wiping his hands on a hand towel. “I'm not like any of those gang members that came to you, am I?”

Myungjun blinked. “Of course not!” he exclaimed. “You're actually a good member of society! You're not scum, like those guys are. You're sweet and polite and helpful and you're  _ civilized _ .” He scoffed and gestured at the door. “They're no better than animals, I think. Don't you?”

Jinwoo thought so. He liked to think perhaps he was above them, but he did the exact same thing they did. He just excluded Myungjun from being on the receiving end, because he found Myungjun cute, because he found Myungjun exciting, because he found Myungjun intoxicating.

“I do,” he responded, and his heart felt heavy as Myungjun went back to work.

Myungjun would find him just as deplorable if the truth were to come out. They might break up. Jinwoo might not find his reason for happiness and life again if that were to happen.

He must ensure, then, at all costs, that Myungjun never find out. He didn’t know how difficult the task would be, or what all it would entail, but he was determined to keep himself displayed only as Myungjun currently saw him.

He would wait for spring. He would wait to be reborn. For the time being, he would just portray the image that only Myungjun knew and allow Sunshine to fill him with its warmth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so gangs are already an issue - how will jinwoo get through this? :O
> 
> please follow me on my [tumblr](http://www.vonseal.tumblr.com) or on my [twitter](https://twitter.com/nightmjare) (i comment more regularly on twitter now oops)! i'll give spoilers and updates and whatnot on either platform! i also post my update schedule onto twitter, so if you're curious when this fic will release chapter nine, check there!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **chapter warnings** : heavy language, use of recreational drugs!

“Jinwoo, here, count this pile. I think it should be about four hundred and fifty, but I need to make sure.”

A voice broke through Jinwoo's thoughts – which, as per usual, had been focused solely on Myungjun. Jinwoo blinked once, twice, then glanced over at the man beside him and asked, “Huh?”

The man gave an exasperated groan, and he smacked a pile of money in front of Jinwoo. “Count,” he demanded. “Should come to about four hundred and fifty.”

“Oh.” Jinwoo didn't want to count money. Before, he enjoyed it the most out of everything else in his week, simply because he knew he would get a good share of their profit. For now, however, he realized how much time it was taking away from his day. He could be out helping Myungjun at his ramen shop, or else just kissing the boy in the kitchen when things had closed down for the evening. 

He couldn't even contact Myungjun, either. Other members in his gang were present, all counting the money earned from various jobs and activities, and he couldn't raise suspicion by smiling down at Myungjun's lovely text messages. He had to pretend things were normal,  _ he _ was normal. He had to count as quickly as possible and then he could make his escape, using the guise of  _ I have things to do _ .

So he began counting quietly to himself, slapping down bills as he went. He didn't get very far, however, until one of his friends, sitting at his feet and watching the television, held something up in front of his face. Jinwoo narrowed his eyes and asked, “What's this?”

“What does it look like, you moron?” the friend scoffed.

Jinwoo snatched it out of his hand. “I don't have my glasses on at the moment,” he complained. “Besides, when you randomly stuff it under my nose, I can't see it very well.”

“Then smell it.”

“I did.” Jinwoo tossed it onto the counter beside him and sighed, “I'm not in the mood, Daejung.”

His friend snatched it back again, cradling it as if it was precious, and he mumbled, “I rolled a joint specifically for  _ you _ , and you turned it down. That doesn't normally happen, Jinwoo.”

Jinwoo chose not to comment on it. He had been trying to stop smoking since he met Myungjun. Myungjun mentioned once that he wasn't fond of it, and from that period onward, Jinwoo tried his best to deny all temptations. That included drugs, too, and even if it caused some sort of suspicion within his small group of friends, he was willing to be placed under scrutiny.

Drugs were easy enough to give up, anyway. He hadn't smoked them too often in the first place, just if someone offered him any, and now he no longer needed the escape that the drugs provided him. He had found happiness within Myungjun, and he preferred to keep it that way.

Of course, when Daejung held up a cigarette, Jinwoo found that more difficult to say no to.

He cursed his weak will. He was too addicted to tobacco to reject it, and so five minutes later, he berated himself while taking a long drag and sending smoke spiraling up to his ceiling.

Smoking was useful enough for his concentration, however. He wasn't as irritable with a cigarette in his mouth, and he actually sped through most of his counting rather quickly. He almost finished when Daejung suddenly said, “You've been gone a  _ lot _ recently, Jinwoo.”

“I lost my fucking count,” Jinwoo mumbled, glancing over at the piles he made. One hundred, two hundred, three hundred – and now what was he at? He flipped through the bills still left in his hand, trying to regain his spot, but Daejung didn't stop talking.

“I'm just saying, kid, you've been difficult to reach. Usually, you're at home, but you're  _ not _ anymore.”

Youngsoo, situated beside him on the bed, nodded his head. “He's right,” the man said. “You don't really answer texts often, either. You've left me on read more times than I can count.”

Jinwoo wasn't in the mood to answer. He had no excuses, no lies, and so he simply waved his money. “Speaking of  _ count _ ,” he said, “I would rather try and finish counting this so I can get you guys out of here.”

Daejung shrugged and turned back to the television, but Youngsoo just nudged Jinwoo. “Money counting can wait,” he said. “We have all night for that.”

“I don't,” Jinwoo snapped before he could stop himself.

“ _ You _ don't have all night?” Jaeha, the man who had given him the money to start with, looked at Jinwoo in surprise. “Where do you have to be, then? You told us you were free.”

It was true; Jinwoo technically had nowhere to be. He didn't make plans with Myungjun and he was stuck at his apartment building. Still, the moment his friends had come over, Jinwoo already made up his mind that he wanted to leave and find Myungjun. Even if it  _ was _ nearly midnight, he was certain he could at least have a quick phone conversation with his boyfriend.

Not now, though. Not with everyone crowded in the tiny room he rented out. None of them were aware he was in a relationship, and Jinwoo was determined to keep it that way. 

He had to make up a lie; fortunately, he had become skilled enough in the art of lying ever since he started dating Myungjun. “I am free, but the more I hang out with you asswipes, the more I'm beginning to want to be alone,” he muttered.

He was fortunate he was a quick thinker. His friends seemed satisfied enough with his answer. Youngsoo even laughed and nudged Jinwoo again, then pointed at the money. “Then finish counting,” he ordered. “I want to go home, too. I'm exhausted.”

With that, Jinwoo did finish, thankful that his friends weren't questioning him too much. He laid the money out on the table, patting the top of it and saying, “Jaeha was right. It's four hundred and fifty thousand won.”

“Not that much,” Youngsoo mumbled. “So, do we split it evenly, then, among us four?”

Jinwoo and Daejung both nodded along, but before they could grab any of the money, Jaeha stopped them. “Actually, I was thinking...” He counted some of the bills out, going into one of Jinwoo's stacks, then handed Jinwoo some of the money. “Seventy-five thousand for you,” he mumbled, “One hundred and twenty-five for each of us.”

Jinwoo stared at the small amount in his hands, then over at what Jaeha was dividing between himself and his two other friends. It wasn't fair for him to get stuck with the least amount of money, and so Jinwoo spoke up, putting his cigarette out in his ashtray and coughing once into his free hand. “Hold on,” he said. “This...what the hell are you guys playing at? We've never split it like this. It's always split evenly four ways-”

“You've been silent for  _ days _ ,” Jaeha replied, a little too smug for Jinwoo's tastes. “You've left us on read when we've asked if you wanted to come help with a few things, or else you always tell us you're  _ busy _ or  _ sick _ . It's not fair for us to do most of the work and have to pay you an  _ equal _ share. This is a  _ fair _ share, based on how often you actually do anything.”

It was a difficult stance to argue. Jaeha was, technically, correct, once again. Still, Jinwoo could only think of how fast his money was leaving his bank account now, as he spent it all on gifts or dates for Myungjun. He had refused pay from  _ The Star _ , as well, stating that he liked to help out in his spare time. But now, with only a bit of money to last him for the next few weeks, he was beginning to wonder if he was making the right decisions.

He tried to defend himself. “Look, guys, it's just been busy for me recently. I've taken a few solo jobs that didn't go well – you can ask Youngsoo, he dyed my hair for me a few weeks ago.”

Youngsoo slowly nodded his head, as if remembering that night. “He's got a gash in his arm now,” the man helpfully supplied.

With Daejung and Jaeha's curious looks, Jinwoo rolled up a sleeve to show them. In the midst of the tattoos lay an angry, pink scar, still healing over from that evening. Jaeha winced, but still didn't budge from his position. “I'm sorry you're an idiot and take cases from fools – and, yes, you do take too many cases from idiots who don't know their left from their right, and you expect them to go well enough. That's not our problem, Jinwoo. This comes from protecting businesses, and you're not helping us convince any of the shop owners to pay us a monthly service fee. You're slacking, and until you pick up the pace, this is how it's going to be.”

It made sense. Jinwoo couldn't complain. But he didn't feel very satisfied at all with his cut, even knowing how little he had helped them out recently, and so he quietly bid them farewell after a few more minutes and shut the door behind them, cursing lightly to himself and leaning up against the wall of his tiny apartment.

He could live with the amount they gave him. It wasn't much, but he could make do. He would just have to buy Myungjun less presents, plan less expensive dates, and then, perhaps, he'd be alright.

But he didn't  _ want _ to be kept from lavishing his boyfriend. All he wanted to do was give, give,  _ give _ , because Myungjun deserved those gifts more than anyone else in the entire world.

He flopped down in his bed, still dressed in a heavy, long-sleeved shirt and his ripped jeans, and he stared up at the ceiling. It was yellowing from years of cigarette smoke, both before his time and during, and the paint was chipped in several places.

It wasn't something he wanted to look at.

Instead, he turned to his side and stared at the picture of his mother. His sweet, loving mother who never wanted this terrible lifestyle for him. He could imagine her watching from her grave, dread filling her deceased soul as she realized who he had become.

He couldn't stare at that, either.

He sat up in bed and groaned, running his fingers through messy, brown locks of hair. He didn't want to stay in his apartment. He needed to get out, and so he grabbed his jacket and left.

The night was cold and dark. Stars were covered by thin layers of clouds, and Jinwoo lit a cigarette as he walked down his regular path, treading slowly across the pavement, over broken glass bottles and untamed weeds.

He wasn't quite sure what he wanted to do. Before he met Myungjun, perhaps he would find some friends to hang out with. They would cause havoc and trouble nearby, or else they would enjoy a club or a bar. The atmosphere around those places, however, remained just as dark as the night world around, especially now that Jinwoo met Myungjun.

Everything was dark compared to Myungjun.

Jinwoo blew smoke from his mouth and pulled out his phone, sending a simple text message.

[to: sunshine]  _ thinking of u babe :) _

It made him feel happier and closer to his boyfriend, even with one sent text message. However, before he could pocket his phone again, he received a response.

[from: sunshine]  _ always thinking of you!!! _

Jinwoo's heart raced with excitement. He leaned up against the side of his apartment complex and ground out his cigarette.

[to: sunshine]  _ what are you doing up this late? _

[from: sunshine]  _ couldn't sleep! ( ͒˃̩̩⌂˂̩̩ ͒) too busy thinking of u!!!!! _

Jinwoo couldn't stop himself from smiling. He didn't even care if any of his neighbors or friends saw him sitting outside in the middle of the night, grinning stupidly down at his cell phone. All he cared about was how  _ adorable _ Myungjun was.

[to: sunshine]  _ I can't stop thinking of you, either _ .

It took a little bit longer for Myungjun's next reply to send, but once Jinwoo's phone vibrated, he read it in an instant.

[from: sunshine]  _ can we meet up? i want to see u! _

[to: sunshine]  _ meet up? where?  _

[from: sunshine]  _ the park near the star! can u get there? do the buses run that late? _

They didn't, but Jinwoo wasn't overly concerned. He was already flipping through his contacts for the taxi numbers, and after confirming with a driver, he gleefully responded,  _ wait for me! _

The taxi was expensive, much more so than the bus. Jinwoo knew, too, with how little money he had gotten earlier that evening, that he probably should be saving it. He should be frugal in this time, and the included not paying a taxi driver a large sum of money just for the chance to go and see his boyfriend in the middle of the night.

But he decided it was all worth it the moment he stepped into the park and saw, through the darkness, Myungjun's figure, seated on a swing.

Jinwoo hurried forward and called out his greeting, “Hey, Sunshine!”

Myungjun seemed startled at first, but once he turned around, he relaxed. A soft grin fell across his lips, and he patted the swing next to him. “Good morning, Mr. Photographer!” he said. “Fancy seeing you here!”

Jinwoo laughed, and he took the swing Myungjun offered him. “Morning?” he questioned. “It's not morning.”

“It's past one,” Myungjun said. “So that means it's morning!”

The logic worked out; Myungjun, for his part, made things seem like morning. The sunshine cut through darkness, brightening all that lay in its path, and Jinwoo felt refreshed, as if he had just witnessed a gorgeous sunrise. He moved his swing, closer to Myungjun, then placed a kiss onto Myungjun's nose. “Good morning, then, Sunshine,” he murmured.

He relished in Myungjun's little blush, the redness that burned at his cheeks, even in the darkness of the night, and he kissed him again. “You're touchy,” Myungjun muttered.

“Is that a bad thing?”

“No! No, never. I like it. Especially with how cold it is.”

Myungjun was, as per usual, bundled up nicely. His red mittens gripped at the chains of the swing, and a scarf covered most of the bottom half of his face. Still, he smiled again, eyes twinkling with delight, and Jinwoo responded, “Why don't we choose a seat where I can be  _ more _ touchy with you, then?”

Myungjun gasped, then giggled, lightly hitting Jinwoo's shoulder. “You make these things sound so dirty when my intentions were nothing but pure!” he complained, but he still stood up and offered Jinwoo his hand. “Come on.” He wiggled his hands, still encased in their mittens. “Let's go hang out in  _ The Star _ . It's warm there.”

They walked down the street together, bodies occasionally bumping into one another, and Myungjun talked all the while. He talked about how he normally loved to sleep but his mind kept bouncing around with other things; thoughts of the thugs who wanted payment for protection, thoughts of Sanha and Minhyuk who had been caught kissing  _ again _ , thoughts on his father who worked too hard, and thoughts, especially, on Jinwoo, whom he loved very much.

“Me?” Jinwoo asked, surprised. “Why did you think about me?”

Myungjun hummed, trying to catch a glimpse of the stars hanging above. “Sanha asked me yesterday if we were  _ serious _ ,” he replied. “You know – like, I'd never want to date anyone else other than you, and vice versa. That sort of  _ serious _ .”

Jinwoo's heart skipped a beat. “What did you tell him?” he asked.

“I...I told him I'd, um, I'd have to talk to you about it.” Myungjun shyly looked over at Jinwoo, smiling behind his giant scarf. “I'd like to be, if you wouldn't mind, but I figured it was something we needed to decide together. Are we serious, Jinwoo? Will this...will this relationship continue for the rest of our lives?”

Jinwoo could think of nothing else but a life with Myungjun. He stopped, pulling Myungjun closer to him and brushing some hair away from his eyes. Myungjun looked over at him, so filled with hope and adoration, and Jinwoo could do nothing but nod his head. The grin that came to his lips was massive, and he thought his cheekbones would shatter from smiling so hard. “I'm so happy you asked, Myungjun,” he said. He moved Myungjun's scarf down slightly and gave him a sudden kiss.

When he drew back, their breath intermingled, and Myungjun had never looked so happy. “You needn't even ask,” Jinwoo whispered. He felt as if he could float, as if he could fly, and it was all thanks to Myungjun and the intense love he shared with Jinwoo. “Sunshine, I'd never want anyone else but you. I don't think I'll ever want  _ anything _ but you.”

Myungjun giggled, embarrassed by the sudden serious tone of the conversation, but his embarrassment didn't stop him from nuzzling his nose into Jinwoo's neck. He wrapped his arms around Jinwoo's body, as well, holding him close. “I thought you also wanted a car,” he responded.

Jinwoo scoffed, and his boyfriend chuckled. “A car just so I can drive to your place whenever I want to,” he said.

“And you wanted a new computer.”

“So I can video chat with you every single day.”

“And what about a new camera?”

Jinwoo sighed, but Myungjun continued to giggle, even as they pulled away from each other. “You're such a hassle,” Jinwoo complained. He kissed Myungjun's forehead and kept his lips there, letting his touch warm Myungjun's cold body. “And, yet, you're  _ my _ hassle.”

Myungjun curled into his embrace, but even as they shared a sweet moment, Jinwoo couldn't help but wonder if this would backfire on him. A  _ serious _ relationship was what he wanted, what he had always wanted, but it would entail Myungjun learning of his lifestyle choices.

Would Myungjun stay with him, even through a serious relationship, if Jinwoo's entire persona was fake, a facade, a trick for Myungjun to remain his boyfriend?

Jinwoo swallowed thickly and held Myungjun all the tighter.

He had to make sure that Myungjun would never have to make that decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oooh where's that angst at? perhaps...next chapter?
> 
> please follow me on my [tumblr](http://www.vonseal.tumblr.com) or on my [twitter](https://twitter.com/nightmjare) (i comment more regularly on twitter now oops)! i'll give spoilers and updates and whatnot on either platform! i also post my update schedule onto twitter, so if you're curious when this fic will release chapter ten, check there!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **chapter warnings:** sexual implications 
> 
> be prepared for fluff

When Jinwoo showed up at Myungjun's front door again a few days later, he was greeted by his boyfriend looking extra warm, just as Jinwoo had requested of him. He was completely bundled up in his coat, a heavy scarf wrapped around his neck, and those usual ugly, red mittens over his hands. 

“Hey!” Myungjun exclaimed, a little breathlessly. “Just finished getting ready. What's that?”

He pointed down to Jinwoo's hands, and Jinwoo held up the objects he was holding onto; two pairs of ice skates. He watched as Myungjun's expression changed, from happy and excited to shocked. “We're going ice skating!” Jinwoo exclaimed. It had seemed like such a cute date idea. Jinwoo spent one full night scouring pictures on the internet of couples holding hands and gliding across an outdoor ice rink, lights twinkling overhead and the love they held clear, even in a simple image. Jinwoo  _ wanted _ that. He wanted to experience such a thing with Myungjun.

He had bought ice skates the very next day, using up nearly all of the money he had earned from a stint as a bodyguard in order to buy the  _ best _ pair of skates for Myungjun. They were bright and yellow, and Jinwoo had taken the time to draw little suns on them with a marker. Perhaps it was childish, maybe a little silly, but as he showed off his handiwork to Myungjun, his boyfriend lit up even brighter than those cartoon suns.

“Most people would just rent a pair of skates,” Myungjun commented, grabbing onto what Jinwoo bought for him. “You didn't have to go out and buy anything, you know.”

“I wanted you to have them forever,” Jinwoo replied. “I mean, just in case we enjoy ice skating and keep going back, I'm sure they'll end up paying for themselves.”

Myungjun still smiled as he grabbed onto the skates Jinwoo bought for him. He examined them, giggling when he saw the little drawn suns, then murmured, “Have I ever told you that you're the best boyfriend in the entire world?”

“Not often enough,” Jinwoo teased. Myungjun gasped and lightly smacked his shoulder, though the silly attack did nothing except make Jinwoo laugh.

They walked together, hand-in-hand, to the small ice-skating rink that was situated in a cute area downtown. It had become quite a popular tourist attraction, in part due to its proximity to traditional shops and handicrafts, but it was also romantic enough to appeal to younger locals, too. There were twinkling fairy lights that lined the small rink, soft Christmas music playing from speakers nearby, and little mistletoe hung up where possible.

Myungjun marveled at the sight, pointing it all out to Jinwoo. Jinwoo had seen this rink for years now, and it was all so familiar to him, but watching Myungjun's enthusiasm made everything seem brand new.

“Did you guys not have anything like this where you grew up?” Jinwoo asked. He and Myungjun settled along the side of the rink, watching a few people skate by, some good and some bad. 

Myungjun shook his head in response. “No, not really,” he responded. “I'm sure if we drove a little ways away, we might could find something, but this is my first time seeing an outdoor ice skating rink.” He grinned. “I knew they had them in those movies, you know, those really cute movies, but I didn't think they existed anywhere here in Korea.”

He was pleased, then, that he was able to show Myungjun something he had never seen before. 

And while Jinwoo definitely had been to the ice skating rink a handful of times, he had never actually skated. The rink could be a good hangout spot sometimes – the warm food was cheap and a few of his friends from the gang were happy enough to go and cause a bit of trouble. Jinwoo would always trail along, both for show and because he honestly enjoyed the sight. If his only chance to witness such a beautiful rink was while making a mess, then Jinwoo would take what he could get.

Now, though, it was different. Now, he was with his amazing boyfriend and they would get to actually enjoy it together. Jinwoo didn't have to put up a fake facade, nor did he have to pretend he was on par with the rest of the gang members, destructive and rude and crass.

With Myungjun, he could appreciate life. He could laugh freely, smile softly, and feel a sort of affection he had never experienced before.

“Have you ever ice skated before?” Myungjun asked him, leaning into his side.

Jinwoo leaned over to plant a swift kiss onto Myungjun's head, then said, “Nope.”

“Well, neither have I. We're both going to fall, you know.”

He was well aware of that – it was unlikely he had very good balance, after all, and he completely anticipated falling a handful of times before he was able to figure out how to properly skate. Still, he was with Myungjun, and it was going to be romantic, and so Jinwoo found that he wouldn't quite mind the bruising or the scrapes from the falls he would most likely have.

“We'll fall together, then,” Jinwoo replied. “Besides, wouldn't it be nice to have the chance to learn all of this  _ together? _ ”

Myungjun gave a small hum. “It's not something I would learn on my own, for certain.”

“But together, we'll have fun, and it'll be new and interesting.”

“What if we don't learn? I mean, it looks difficult.” Myungjun watched a couple glide across the ice, graceful and confident, and he looked rather impressed. “Do you think we can ever look like  _ that? _ ”

Jinwoo honestly didn't think so. He knew Myungjun was too clumsy, in any case, and  _ he _ wasn't the most balanced person anyway. “If we practice enough,” is what he said instead, and he held onto Myungjun's hand, still enclosed in its ugly red mitten. “Why don't we get out there to show everyone what we've got?”

His boyfriend laughed and followed him along to the rink. “The world will realize that we have no clue what we're doing.”

“They'll find you adorable, regardless of how well we do.”

Myungjun's face was flushed, both from the cold and the compliment, and he nudged his shoulder into Jinwoo's body. “Don't be so sappy,” he complained. “Let's just get out there and try our best.”

It was more difficult, though, than Jinwoo had assumed. The moment his skates hit the ice, he fell down in an unceremonious bundle of limbs. Myungjun laughed at him – until he, too, fell over, right beside Jinwoo.

“Ow,” he murmured, rubbing at his backside. “The ice is harder than I thought it would be.”

“Did you think it'd be soft?” Jinwoo teased, and he tried to push himself up into a standing position. He wasn't doing very well, unfortunately; he kept slipping the moment he thought he could stand.

Myungjun wasn't faring much better. “I thought it wouldn't be  _ this _ hard,” he replied. He was on his knees, arms shaking as he began to stand up. “Look – Look, Jinwoo, I got it!”

He certainly did, and Jinwoo held up his own hands, wiggling his fingers from their spot inside his yellow gloves. “Help me up,” he demanded.

“I doubt I can do that. I barely got up myself.”

Jinwoo pouted and whined, “Please, Sunshine.”

As he expected, the nickname was enough to spring Myungjun into action. The boy tried his best to hide a grin, though he was unable to, and reached down, grasping tightly onto Jinwoo's hands and pulling him up from his spot on the ground. They struggled for a few seconds before both were able to find a good footing, and then Jinwoo sighed. “We just need to know not to fall over anymore,” he said, moving some of Myungjun's hair out from his eyes. “If we do, it's going to be too hard to get back up again.”

They fell once more, twice more, more times than Jinwoo could count. Myungjun kept laughing, though he always pointed out just how bruised and sore his entire body would be by the end of the day.

“If it's bruised, I'll take care of you and all of your bruises,” Jinwoo assured him as they both stood up again.

They were wobbly on their feet when they did skate. Their hands were held tightly together and they leaned on each other for support as they clumsily made their way across the ice.

It wasn't as romantic as Jinwoo had originally assumed it would be. When he bought the skates and made the plans, he imagined the two of them gliding across the skate rink, stopping to give each other little kisses on the nose and cheeks and anywhere else they could reach. Instead, they continued to fall, and they held onto the walls of the rink for support the majority of the time.

Finally, after Myungjun took a particularly hard fall, Jinwoo decided they needn't try any longer. He helped his boyfriend out of the rink and they found a secluded spot to remove their skates.

Jinwoo sighed, “I'm sorry. That wasn't anything like I thought it would be.”

Myungjun, one skate still on his foot, glanced over at him. “How did you  _ think _ it would be?”

“More...romantic,” Jinwoo admitted. “And I thought maybe we'd be better skaters than we were. I mean, in all the movies I watched, it seemed so  _ easy _ . Now you're just bruised up.”

Myungjun slowly nodded his head and he patted himself down. “My coat worked well as padding, though,” he admitted. As he took the other skate off, he smiled. “Don't feel so down, Mr. Photographer! I had a lot of fun, and when we come back here, maybe I'll skate better. Practice makes perfect, after all!”

“Are you saying that you're going to get perfect?” 

“Of course I will! Look, I have all the makings of a skater.”

Jinwoo kissed his forehead and smiled softly, staring into Myungjun's dark, brown eyes, so full of emotion and life. “Mm, what makes a skater, Sunshine?”

Myungjun, pleasantly pink, cleared his throat and stammered out, “Um...beauty and grace.”

“Well, you certainly have the beauty,” Jinwoo admitted. He hugged Myungjun close to him and laughed. “I'm not entirely sure if you're the epitome of  _ grace _ , though. You might need to work on that a little bit more.”

He was shoved away by a pouting Myungjun, and Jinwoo just continued to laugh, offering his apologies for saying such a thing. Myungjun pursed his lips, then said, “If you're truly sorry, you should buy us both hot chocolate.”

“Hot chocolate?” Jinwoo stood up with a scoff and pulled Myungjun with him. “Isn't that more for kids that are out ice skating?”

“Hot chocolate doesn't discriminate ages,” Myungjun said, and he hooked arms with Jinwoo and blinked flirtatiously over at him. “I want mine with extra whipped cream.”

Jinwoo couldn't very well deny Myungjun anything he wanted, especially not when his boyfriend looked so cute and sweet and adorable. He  _ had _ to give in, and so he caved, leading Myungjun over to the concessions stand nearby.

The wait in line was longer than Jinwoo would have liked for it to be, but by the time he got his two hot chocolates (both with extra whipped cream, as per Myungjun's request), he realized it was completely and totally worth it. Myungjun gave a small hum as he took the first sip of his hot chocolate, and when he drew the cup away, he had a thin layer of cream right above his upper lip.

Jinwoo knew that this was a prime opportunity for a kiss. He had seen it in movies before. Besides that, the atmosphere for such was perfect, with the cold air rushing past them and the twinkling fairy lights strung all around. Jinwoo couldn't help but wanting to kiss Myungjun.

He leaned in, and Myungjun, anticipating the move, close his eyes and puckered his lips ever so slightly.

He tasted sweet, like the drink he had in his hands, and his lips were just as soft as ever. Jinwoo wanted to indulge himself as much as possible, but when he drew back for them both to catch their breaths, he noticed someone familiar further down the sidewalk behind Myungjun.

In fact, he noticed a  _ few _ people who were very familiar.

He knew they were in his gang, and he knew if they saw him, his entire charade would be up. He didn't want his secret to be uncovered – not yet, not now, not when he was still growing in his relationship with Myungjun.

“Come on,” he whispered to his boyfriend, grasping at his free hand and dragging him down the pathway, eyes scanning for somewhere to hide.

Myungjun had gasped as he was pulled, but otherwise made no sort of advance to get away. He simply trailed behind.

Jinwoo found a closed shop, with a little entryway before the front door appeared. It was tight and hidden and  _ perfect _ , and so Jinwoo grabbed Myungjun and stuffed them both in such a tiny location. They were close together; Jinwoo could feel Myungjun's breath along his face, but it didn't bother him for the moment. Instead, he peeked out of the doorway, trying to figure out if he was spotted.

“This is...cozy,” Myungjun whispered suddenly, and Jinwoo looked back at him. He was red and his eyes were wide and his lips were still wet from their kissing, and Jinwoo found himself not even minding that he could have almost been caught. Myungjun looked so perfect, and Jinwoo desired nothing but to be with him.

He kissed Myungjun, swiftly cocking his head to ensure their lips could fit perfectly together. He wrapped his arms around Myungjun's body, pulling him even closer, and he could taste nothing but  _ Myungjun _ , he could smell nothing but Myungjun, and he wanted nothing but Myungjun.

His hot chocolate was being gripped too tightly, but he didn't mind. He continued to kiss Myungjun, occasionally biting at his lips or else darting his tongue inside Myungjun's mouth. He could hear Myungjun moan into the kiss, panting lightly as he struggled to keep up, and then he felt burning.

A burning liquid.

Right down his back.

He drew back suddenly, hitting the side of the doorway, and cursed as he patted at the back of his jacket. Myungjun looked dazed for an instant before glancing over at his own crushed cup of hot chocolate. They both seemed to come to the same realization at the same time. “Di-Did I spill my drink on you?” Myungjun asked, panicked.

“I think so,” Jinwoo responded. It didn't hurt so bad anymore. Now, it was just wet and uncomfortable. When he saw how upset Myungjun was, he smiled. “Don't worry, though. It's fine! It was a little cooler because it sat for longer, so it didn't really hurt.”

“Of course it hurt, you dummy! It's a hot drink!” Myungjun exclaimed. His lips were red and swollen and so delectable. Jinwoo bemoaned the fact that their kiss was over too soon. He wouldn't blame Myungjun, however, because it was such a simple mistake, and perhaps it was best they stopped the kiss before it went anywhere  _ too _ heavy.

“I think I'll survive it, though,” Jinwoo assured him. He pushed himself up from the wall and, one last time, peeked out down the sidewalk. He could no longer spot the men from his gang, and he sighed in relief before facing Myungjun again, who still looked distraught with the entire situation. “Hey, Sunshine, it's fine! Honestly! No harm was caused!”

“Your jacket is ruined,” Myungjun mumbled.

“I can wash it, no big deal.” 

“And...and our kiss was ruined.”

It most certainly  _ was _ ruined. Jinwoo tightened his own puffy lips when he thought about all the little noises Myungjun had been making, the way the boy had turned to putty in his hands, the perfect fit of their lips together. He wanted the kiss to continue on for longer. The selfish part of him was ready to swoop Myungjun up again and have his way with him, right in the tiny staircase with a plethora of people nearby.

But he wasn't greedy enough to understand that Myungjun deserved something far more romantic and well-planned and thought out.

“It wasn't ruined,” Jinwoo said, and he smoothed down Myungjun's hair a bit before passing him his own full cup of hot chocolate. “We'll just save it for another day, okay?”

“It seemed perfect today, though.”

“I'd rather kiss like that when, um, we're inside. Near a bed. Somewhere I can properly lavish you with affection.”

Myungjun's eyes widened and he stared, first down at his hot chocolate, then up at Jinwoo. “What's that supposed to mean?” he questioned.

Myungjun was so cute, and Jinwoo had to kiss him, one last time, before leading the both of them from the doorway. “Nothing!” he responded in a sing-song voice.

“No, I know you mean something by that – did you mean what I think you mean?”

Jinwoo laughed and held onto Myungjun's hand. He walked leisurely down the sidewalk again, his worries all evaporated and only Myungjun left to fill his every sense. “I might mean something, but I might not mean anything. Perhaps a bed will be useful for sleeping, when we're all tired from kissing.”

“A bed is useful for other things,” Myungjun pointed out.

“Really?” Jinwoo grinned mischievously at him. “Like what?”

Myungjun didn't respond. He simply puffed out his cheeks and glared at Jinwoo, who giggled and continued to walk. “Drink that hot chocolate,” he ordered, gesturing to the cup he gave Myungjun. “I think you have more of a sweet tooth than I do.”

He wasn't sure how true that was, though. Jinwoo had always liked sweets just fine, but he realized he was addicted now to the sweetest thing of them all.

He smiled as Myungjun sipped the hot chocolate, warming himself and, in turn, warming Jinwoo's entire heart.

Jinwoo didn't mind being addicted to Myungjun. It was akin to being addicted to the sun, and since when had that hurt anyone?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please follow me on my [tumblr](http://www.vonseal.tumblr.com) or on my [twitter](https://twitter.com/nightmjare) (i comment more regularly on twitter now oops)! i'll give spoilers and updates and whatnot on either platform! i also post my update schedule onto twitter, so if you're curious when this fic will release chapter eleven, check there!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **chapter warnings:** language, recreational drug use
> 
> also heavy fluff <3

Despite how much time Jinwoo spent with Myungjun, he understood that they also needed time allotted to be separate from each other. He didn't like it, necessarily, but Myungjun had a good life outside of Jinwoo's constant presence, and so Jinwoo would take a step back, away from Myungjun's ramen shop and consistent smile, and allow them both to take a breath away from the other.

Or, that was what he told Myungjun. Myungjun seemed unsure, but had agreed if only because Jinwoo persuaded him. Jinwoo, however, wished they  _ could _ be together forever. He liked Myungjun more than he had ever liked anyone before, and he felt like he could be himself when he was around Myungjun. He didn't have to pretend to be tough or stoic or  _ bad _ . He could be Jinwoo, the man who giggled a lot and liked cute animals and longed to be someone greater. 

Jinwoo hated the time apart, if only because it brought him crawling right back to the members of his gang. With them, he smoked and drank excessively and hated himself with every growing minute. All he wanted was to run back to Myungjun, to hold him and kiss him and stay plastered to his side for all of eternity. 

He couldn't do that, though, so he simply stared down at his phone, at the texts he had sent to Myungjun the evening before.

_ [to: Sunshine] good night!  _

_ [from: Sunshine] good night cutie-pie!!!! ill only dream of you <3 _

He hadn't heard back from Myungjun, despite texting him a good morning message. It was unlike Myungjun to ignore him, but he didn't think anything of it; it was still rather early, and Myungjun sometimes slept in rather than run to the ramen shop first thing. Still, he sighed in frustration, letting the phone screen turn off.

Youngsoo, laying on the couch and flipping through television channels, glanced over at him. “What's wrong?” the man asked. “You've been sighing at your phone for the past five minutes.”

Jinwoo pursed his lips and pocketed the device. “Nothing,” he lied, staring at the joint in Youngsoo's hands. “Here, pass it over.”

Youngsoo complied, and Jinwoo allowed himself to become embraced with the intense smell of marijuana. It was smoky and hazy and gross, but he didn't care. He felt like he was falling into disarray when he strayed from Myungjun's good nature.

He passed the joint back to Youngsoo and sighed again, propping himself up against the palm of his hand. “Youngsoo?” he asked.

“What?” The man was already stoned, and it was hardly nine in the morning. Jinwoo felt disgusted with his friend's state of being, but then realized  _ he _ was smoking at nine in the morning, as well. He couldn't very well complain.

Jinwoo picked his head up and looked at his friend. “What do you think about love?” he asked.

Youngsoo snorted and leaned his head back against the couch. “That's deep,” he said. “Why are we getting so deep this early in the morning?”

“Same reason you're getting high this early in the morning.”

Youngsoo didn't appear to have an answer for him then. He just shrugged his shoulders and stared up at the ceiling, through the smokey haze of his own joint, and gave a sigh similar to the ones Jinwoo had been giving. It took him a couple of minutes to finally mumble, “This is about you looking at your phone, isn't it?”

Jinwoo didn't want to respond, and so he chose not to. Instead, he ran his fingers through his hair and pulled his phone back out from his pocket.

He realized suddenly that he had a new text message. His phone likely vibrated without his knowledge, perhaps when he was too busy pouting.

[ _ from: Sunshine] its not a good morning bc im sick :( _

Jinwoo blinked at the message, then stood from his seat. Myungjun was sick? How did he get sick?  _ Why _ did he get sick? All Jinwoo could think of was Myungjun all alone at his house, coughing and crying in pain and needing someone to come and save him. Never mind the fact he had a whole family at his disposal, a family who loved and cared for him; in Jinwoo's mind, Myungjun needed  _ him _ .

“I got to go,” he blurted out to Youngsoo. “And-”

He smelled like weed.

There was no way he  _ didn't _ smell like weed, not when he was cooped up in Youngsoo's small living room, not when he had been smoking, as well. He sniffed his clothes once and grimaced, then smacked Youngsoo's shoulder. “You fucking moron,” he complained, and Youngsoo just rolled his eyes. “You're smoking so damn early, and now I just smell disgusting.”

“Lay off. I do this all the time.”

He did. Jinwoo felt angry with himself for going along with it, but he decided it wasn't worth fighting over. He had to fix himself up before going to see Myungjun, to ensure he still hid his identity well enough. “I'm gonna take a shower, then,” Jinwoo announced. “And I'm taking some of your clothes. I know you just washed some last night.”

Youngsoo didn't seem to be paying him attention; perhaps he was already getting too high to care. Jinwoo was able to take a hot shower, scrubbing himself down with vigor, and layering on as much soap and shampoo as he possibly could. He spent a few extra minutes choosing what to wear, as well. Youngsoo's clothing wasn't designed to keep arm tattoos out of sight, but Jinwoo was finally able to find a long-sleeved t-shirt and a heavy jacket to put over top, just to block out the cold. He cursed quietly to himself when he realized he left his yellow gloves back at his house, but he had no time to run there now. Myungjun was sick, and Myungjun needed Jinwoo.

“Hey, sorry for dashing so suddenly,” Jinwoo apologized as he poked his head into the living room, trying his best to stay away from the smoke. “Thanks for letting me spend the night.”

“Anytime, Jinwoo,” Youngsoo responded, waving a lazy hand up as a goodbye.

Finally free from the burden of pretending, Jinwoo was able to smile on his way down the street. He texted Myungjun, a quick,  _ wait for me im coming _ , before hurrying on his way. He felt happy and alive and so very excited – even if Myungjun was sick, at least they could see each other. 

And even if Myungjun didn't need Jinwoo's care,  _ Jinwoo _ needed to be with Myungjun.

It wasn't until he made his way to Myungjun's house that he stopped, just short of reaching the front door, and thought of his actions.

Wouldn't it be weird if he were to show up? Wouldn't Myungjun's parents find him a little overbearing? Wouldn't  _ Myungjun _ find him a little overbearing? After all, it didn't seem as if Myungjun's illness was all that serious, or else he wouldn't have texted cute hearts in response to Jinwoo's announcement of coming over. He wouldn't be texting at all, if it was anything serious, and since it clearly wasn't serious, he didn't need Jinwoo there to hover and fret over him. Myungjun's entire family was in there – they didn't need him.

He contemplated leaving. He could text Myungjun that something came up, and then he wouldn't have to make a fool of himself and inconvenience the rest of the Kim family. He didn't get a chance to put that plan into action, however. Just then, the front door opened, and Myungjun's father stepped out.

He looked at Jinwoo in shock for a second, then his face relaxed into a smile. “Jinwoo!” he greeted. “Are you here to see Myungjun?”

Jinwoo blinked, then stammered, “I-I, um...I mean,  _ yes _ , but does...does he  _ want _ to, um, to see me?”

“That's a ridiculous question. He  _ always _ wants to see you. For once, he talks more about you than he does  _ The Star _ .” Myungjun's father, as sweet and kind as he was, gave Jinwoo's back a small pat. “I'm going to go and open the shop for him. Maybe you can go inside and help Myungjun get better. He won't take his pills for us, but I bet he would for  _ you _ .”

Jinwoo glanced at the front door, then asked, “Won't take his pills?”

“He's a child, still. He hates taking pills. But I have a feeling you could get him to do anything. He really likes you, Jinwoo.” Myungjun's father grinned, and Jinwoo understood exactly where Myungjun got his smile from. It was charming and warm, and Jinwoo's anxieties melted away.

He watched Myungjun's father leave, down the steps and across the street, before he headed inside himself.

Instantly, he was met with coughing, gagging, and then a small moan. It came from the living room area, and so Jinwoo removed his shoes and crept over to the source of the sound.

Myungjun lay on the couch, wrapped in a large blanket and snuggled deep into a huge pillow. Despite the comfortable position he seemed to be in, he looked miserable. He had dark circles under his eyes, his lips were chapped, his hair slicked back and greasy, and his nose runny.

Still, Jinwoo found him just as gorgeous as he always was.

Myungjun brightened considerably upon seeing Jinwoo. He sat up in his seat and a grin formed on his face. “Jinwoo!” he greeted, voice raspy from his sickness. “You didn't have to come, you know! I know you're probably busy with work, and you have other people to hang out with-”

“Nothing is nearly as important as taking care of you,” Jinwoo responded. He stepped forward, noting that the smile just grew on Myungjun's face from those words. “How did you get sick, Sunshine?” He sat down next to his boyfriend and stuck a hand out, wiggling his fingers to gesture Myungjun forward.

Myungjun leaned into Jinwoo's hand, allowing his forehead to be felt by the younger man, and he sighed. “Not sure. Maybe I didn't bundle up enough in the snow yesterday.”

“Myungjun, if you bundled up anymore, I think you might suffocate.” Jinwoo could feel the burning of Myungjun's skin, and he frowned as he removed his hand. “You really have a nasty fever. Should we go to the hospital?”

“It's not that bad,” Myungjun assured. He cleared his throat and then moved to lay back down. However, he stopped and glanced over at Jinwoo, hope shining in his eyes. “Can...can I lay in your lap?” he asked, voice small and nervous. “I know we've, um, not done something like this, but...but I'd like to. Um, I'd...probably feel better. But if not, I'm sure I'd feel the same, and it'd be fine!”

Jinwoo wanted the domestic bliss that came with a relationship. Myungjun laying in his lap sounded perfect, and so Jinwoo eagerly patted his legs and nodded his head. “You don't even have to ask,” he said.

Myungjun beamed, brighter than the sun even through his fever, and maneuvered himself into a more comfortable position. He used Jinwoo's thighs as a pillow, and he pulled his blanket to cover himself, looking snug and warm in his new spot. He couldn't stop smiling, either, and Jinwoo gazed down upon him with heavy affection.

His boyfriend really was the most precious.

“You're cozy,” Myungjun murmured, eyes closed as he settled down. 

“Just for you,” Jinwoo responded.

He heard Myungjun trying his best to stifle a giggle. “Thanks for letting me use your lap.”

“Anytime.”

Myungjun fell asleep sometime after that. A drama continued to play on the television, some sort of reruns of an old show Jinwoo had never watched before, but he found appreciation in the love the two main characters shared. They were cute; they hugged each other without shame, they told each other their deepest, darkest secrets, and they thought only of each other in the difficult times.

Jinwoo wanted a love with no restrictions. He wanted a love like that found in a drama. While he knew they were unrealistic, simply portrayed by great actors and cheesy writing, he still  _ wanted _ it. It was an ideal relationship, and he knew he could make such a relationship work with Myungjun.

However, he led a double life. Myungjun remained blissfully unaware of such a fact, but Jinwoo felt guilt chew at him whenever he thought of how little Myungjun truly knew.

It wasn't fair for poor Myungjun. Myungjun had already told Jinwoo his secrets; Jinwoo had yet to do the same thing back. Instead, he created fake secrets, secrets his “Mr. Photographer” persona had, secrets that didn't really belong to Jinwoo.

“Myungjun?” he whispered, patting down the boy's hair. Myungjun, still asleep, didn't answer him, so Jinwoo found it safe to continue. “I'm sorry, Myungjun,” he said, and he leaned over to place a kiss on Myungjun's warm cheek. “I'll tell you one day.”

They stayed in such a position for over two hours. Jinwoo played with Myungjun's hair and watched the drama unfold in front of him. Myungjun slept, soundly and calmly, and only woke when his mother entered the room with two bowls of soup and some medicine.

“It smells good, Mom,” Myungjun commented drowsily as Jinwoo helped him into a sitting position. “But I don't need medicine. I have Jinwoo here to make me feel better.”

Jinwoo blushed and hid a smile. “You still need to take your pills, though,” Myungjun's mother ordered, ruffling Myungjun's hair. “I don't think Jinwoo even can take away a fever.”

“You obviously don't know how skilled he is.” Still, Myungjun grabbed the tray from his mother's hands and set it across his lap. “Thanks, Mom.”

She left them alone, though she gave Jinwoo one last glance of desperation. Jinwoo remembered Myungjun's father also mentioning the pills, and realized he was being roped into ensuring Myungjun took his medicine.

He hoped it would be easier than either of the two parents made it out to be.

Myungjun had already started slurping at his soup, nodding his head in appreciation when he tasted it, and Jinwoo watched him for a few seconds before grabbing the bottle of medicine. “Here,” he said, pouring two pills out into his hand. “It'll be easier to take while you're eating.”

Myungjun glanced at him and scoffed. “Even  _ you _ can't get me to take pills, Jinwoo. My gag reflex sucks.”

“If you put it in your mouth with the soup, you won't even feel it.” Jinwoo gestured for Myungjun to take the pills from his hand, but Myungjun didn't move. “Sunshine, come on. Please?”

“No.” 

Myungjun certainly was stubborn; Jinwoo was more stubborn.

“It'd be a shame if you didn't get well,” he murmured, seeming forlorn. “because then, if you remain sick, I don't think I'd have anyone to give kisses to.”

It appeared that did the trick. Myungjun glanced at Jinwoo, mouth full of soup, before swallowing and giving his boyfriend a scowl. “That's playing dirty,” he declared. “You can't use kisses to make me do things I don't want to do.”

“I'm not going to make you do  _ anything _ ,” Jinwoo assured. “I'm simply stating the facts. I won't kiss a man who's ill.”

There was a couple seconds of silence, and Jinwoo waited curiously as Myungjun continued to frown before finally grabbing the pills and popping them into his mouth with the next spoonful of soup. He swallowed again, grimacing as the pills went down, and then snapped, “ _ Now _ will you kiss me?”

Jinwoo couldn't help but laugh, even if it made Myungjun roll his eyes. “Don't be mad, Sunshine.” He leaned in and kissed Myungjun's forehead, allowing his lips to linger for a bit. “I just hate seeing you ill. I want you to get better, even if it means you have to take those disgusting pills.”

Myungjun, flushed from his fever, nodded his head. “They  _ are _ really gross.”

“But they will help you feel better.”

“Only you can help me feel better. I told you that. I told  _ Mom _ that, too.” He leaned against Jinwoo again, sipping slower at his soup and closing his eyes. “You know, I've been sick before, but I don't think I've ever felt this  _ good _ while I've been sick.”

Jinwoo felt Myungjun's forehead again with his hand, and when he determined the fever was probably going to persist overnight, he smoothed Myungjun's sweaty hair back against his scalp, allowing the skin underneath to cool off a little. “You're sick; I don't think you feel  _ good _ , necessarily.”

“No, I do. I feel really good.”

“You're just saying that because you're sappy,” Jinwoo argued, but he was still smiling. Knowing that he was the cause of Myungjun's happiness was enough to make him feel a trickle of pleasure inside his heart.

“I'm sappy because you made me this way.” Myungjun set his soup on the coffee table and then returned back to his position, curled up into Jinwoo's side. It was warm, made even warmer from Myungjun's burning fever, and a little uncomfortable, made more so by Myungjun's elbow digging into his stomach, but Jinwoo didn't dare move. He loved the position, and so he relaxed into the couch and wrapped both of his arms around Myungjun's body.

“I don't believe, for one single instant, that you weren't this sappy before meeting me,” Jinwoo whispered. He kissed the side of Myungjun's head, then trailed his kisses down to Myungjun's ear. “Oh, poor baby, though – you're just burning up, aren't you?”

“Like sunshine,” Myungjun teased.

He really was like sunshine. Even while sick, he shone brightly. He made Jinwoo feel light and happy and carefree. He was opening up Jinwoo piece by piece, as the sun would open up a daffodil in the spring.

Was that what this was between them?  _ Spring _ . A chance for rebirth and regrowth. A chance for pastels and floral, for life and for love. Myungjun had chased away the bitter winter winds outside, had melted the snow that guarded Jinwoo's heart, and had allowed him the opportunity to feel brand new inside.

He was like sunshine.

“Just like sunshine,” Jinwoo agreed, burying his nose into Myungjun's cheek. “You  _ are _ sunshine.”

“I'm your sunshine.”

He was Jinwoo's Sunshine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> but what will happen next chapter?????
> 
> please follow me on my [tumblr](http://www.vonseal.tumblr.com) or on my [twitter](https://twitter.com/nightmjare) (i comment more regularly on twitter now oops)! i'll give spoilers and updates and whatnot on either platform! i also post my update schedule onto twitter, so if you're curious when this fic will release chapter twelve, check there!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **chapter warnings** : drinking, sexual implications, too much fluff <3

**The other night, dear, as I lay sleeping**   
  
**I dreamed I held you in my arms**   
  
**But when I awoke, dear, I was mistaken**   
  
**And I hung my head and I cried**

 

Myungjun, Jinwoo was learning, couldn’t hold his alcohol very well

He didn’t get overly drunk or wild. He was nothing like Jinwoo’s friends were. He actually seemed to know his limit, and he tried desperately to stick to that. Unfortunately, his limit wasn’t very much, and he overshot it by a good portion.

“I shouldn’t have recommended this bar,” Jinwoo mumbled from where he sat. Myungjun was leaned up on his shoulder, resting his head in the crook of Jinwoo’s neck and mumbling out some sort of nonsensical response.

Myungjun had asked if they could go out for drinks. He claimed he wanted to see Jinwoo drunk, at least once in his life, and had eagerly persisted until Jinwoo gave in to his desires. They chose a bar further away from town. Myungjun wanted one close by his house, so when they inevitably were drunk, they could just walk home, but Jinwoo claimed that the bar far away was much better.

In reality, he just didn’t want to be noticed by any of the regular patrons at any of the bars near Myungjun’s house. At least one person was bound to recognize him, and he needed to avoid telling Myungjun the truth for as long as possible.

He had felt guilty all the while as he and Myungjun hailed a cab and found the bar pricing on Myungjun’s phone. At least he was able to drink away some of his guilt. A few beers into the night, and he felt light-headed and happy and decided that all of his issues could wait until the next day, or the day after that, or the day after that - _one_ day, he would definitely tell Myungjun who he was and why he hid his identity for so long.

Just not _today_.

Today was solely for him and Myungjun to drink and talk over the soft music and enjoy each others company.

Myungjun, nose pink from all of the alcohol, yawned widely and wrapped his arms around Jinwoo’s waist. “You’re warm,” he mumbled.

“So are you,” Jinwoo responded. He was slightly tipsy, nothing compared to Myungjun, and, as such, was now the more responsible of the two. And, like any responsible boyfriend, he planted a kiss onto Myungjun’s forehead and hummed into his skin. “You’re not feverish anymore, though. Thank God.”

“I told you, my fever broke two days ago,” Myungjun murmured.

Jinwoo was well aware of that, though he made no extra comment. He knew Myungjun had gotten a little stir-crazy from being cooped up inside his house for the extended period of time. He also knew that Myungjun had enjoyed being cared for initially, but after a while the novelty of it all wore off. Myungjun liked going out, and he liked taking care of himself. The domesticity had been cute, but Myungjun could only be babied for so long. A bar, then, was the perfect place for him to unwind, to prove his adulthood, and to enjoy Jinwoo’s presence without feeling like a burden.

Though, from the looks of it, Jinwoo was definitely going to have to continue to care for Myungjun, at least in his drunken state of mind.

“I’m glad your fever broke,” Jinwoo said. “But, Sunshine, you shouldn’t drink so much.”

“I hardly drank anything.”

“Well, you shouldn’t drink anymore than your body will allow you to drink.” Jinwoo pushed aside the beer that sat in front of Myungjun. He was pretty certain Myungjun wouldn’t be grabbing it for any reason, but he just wanted to make _sure_ there was no temptations at all.

Myungjun sighed and lifted his head from Jinwoo’s shoulder, glancing over at the man with a curious gaze. “I’ve been thinking about something, Jinwoo.”

“What’s that?”

“We don’t talk much about you.” Myungjun propped his chin up in the palm of his hand. His eyes were drooping and he struggled not to sway, but he looked serious, regardless of the buzz he was clearly feeling from the alcohol. It made Jinwoo uncomfortable, for such a subject to be brought up in such a way, but Myungjun didn’t notice how Jinwoo shifted in his seat awkwardly. “You always ask me about my life growing up, and about what I wanted to be when I was a kid, but I’ve never really returned those questions.” He frowned and shook his head. “I’m sorry, Jinwoo.”

Jinwoo’s mouth felt dry, and he grabbed Myungjun’s beer, sipping at it to give himself something to do and something to look at rather than Myungjun’s intense gaze. “Don’t...don’t apologize,” he ordered, stammering out his words. “I never really wanted to delve into that information.”

Myungjun didn’t back off, though, despite Jinwoo’s clear reluctance. “Why not?” he asked. “Did...did something bad happen, Jinwoo?”

Jinwoo wasn’t sure how much to tell Myungjun. He didn’t even know if he wanted to tell Myungjun anything at all. Myungjun deserved to know, but if Jinwoo really got into it, how much would he spill?

“I...um…” He took another swig of the beer, then sighed loudly. “My dad and mom divorced really early on,” he admitted finally. “And, um, we grew up a little poor, me and my mom. But she was always sweet and always helped me. She wanted me to become a big-shot of some sorts; lawyer, doctor, I don’t know. Someone who makes a lot of money, I guess.”

He paused in his story and nervously drummed his fingers on the table. Myungjun, watching him, finally asked, “Was?”

“Excuse me?” Jinwoo glanced up.

“You said...she _was_ always sweet.” His boyfriend looked unsure and asked, “Jinwoo, did she die?”

It was a blunt way of putting it, but Jinwoo couldn’t very well fault Myungjun for the question. It was a valid inquiry, and Myungjun was a little too tipsy to properly form a respectful way of asking.

He was so tired of constantly lying to Myungjun concerning his life, and so he took this one chance to tell the truth. He nodded his head and offered Myungjun a small smile. “I was still in school,” he muttered. “It was...it was a huge shock.”

Myungjun stared at him sadly. “How did she die?” he asked.

Most people might consider Myungjun intrusive, or inappropriate, but he _had_ endured all of Jinwoo’s lies and reluctance to even speak of his past. Jinwoo owed him this much, at least. Jinwoo could tell the truth to this extent, at least.

“Cancer,” he replied. “It came quickly and suddenly - the doctors said it had been building up in her system for a while. She just didn’t like to take days off. She had to care for me, you know? So she endured the discomfort and pain she felt for a while, and then she could no longer take it. We went to a hospital and she got the diagnosis.” He took another sip of beer, then said, “The doctor instantly told us she wouldn’t make it to my next birthday.”

The sounds of the bar were muffled to Jinwoo’s ear. All he heard was Myungjun’s soft sigh, and all he felt was Myungjun leaning into him and wrapping his arms around his body. “I’m so sorry,” Myungjun whispered, breath hot against Jinwoo’s skin. “I really am sorry. And...and I’m so sorry for asking about it, Jinwoo. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I’m fine,” Jinwoo assured him, but he called the bartender over for extra drinks, and he even relinquished Myungjun’s drink, passing it back over to his boyfriend. “Here,” he muttered.

“You said...you said I had enough, that I was drinking too much.” Myungjun looked confused, but he accepted the beer, nonetheless. “Can I drink more?”

Jinwoo smiled and shrugged his shoulders. “I feel a little sad, but a bit of alcohol will lighten the mood, don’t you think?”

“That’s called alcoholism, isn’t it?”

“Jesus christ, it’s not like I’m drinking every single _time_ I get sad! Just...just right now. Just with you.” He clinked his glass of beer into Myungjun’s and grinned. “We wanted to loosen up, anyway. No point in coming to a bar this far away from town if all I do is tell a sob story while we’re both too sober to listen properly.”

He drank, and from the corner of his eye, he saw Myungjun smile, too, and start to drink again.

He wasn’t sure how many beers they had between them. Enough to become overly drunk. Enough for Myungjun to request a round of karaoke, and not _nearly_ enough to stop Jinwoo from agreeing. In his usual drunken state, he might puke and then fall asleep, but he held back to ensure he didn’t look a fool in front of Myungjun.

It was ruined when he agreed to go do karaoke.

They were fortunate enough to find a private room available down the street. Jinwoo rented an hour’s worth of time, and they sat down in the small, cramped spot and flipped through the television, choosing the songs they both knew.

Myungjun, even while drunk, was a beautiful singer. He hit every note perfectly, though he looked a little silly while doing so. Jinwoo wasn’t much of a singer himself, but he exaggerated his lack of talent and made Myungjun laughed. The boy laughed loudly, animated, clapping his hands and throwing his head back. He was delightful to watch, and when they sang a duet together, Jinwoo was lost in his mesmerizing beauty.

Myungjun was completely flushed from the alcohol, and his hair was in disarray from the fun of karaoke. His clothes, too, were disheveled from his dancing, sweat stains visible in various places. He was so _real_ , so raw, unapologetically _Myungjun_ , unapologetically _Sunshine_.

Jinwoo loved him.

He said nothing, though, concerning his newfound revelation of love, but he couldn’t stop from thinking it.

As Myungjun packed up their microphones, Jinwoo thought, _I love him_.

As Myungjun bid the owner of the business farewell, stumbling slightly in his steps, Jinwoo thought, _I love him_.

As Myungjun hooked arms with him and giggled in his face, breath a gross mix of alcohol and the fish they had earlier, Jinwoo thought, _I love him_.

Myungjun had opened him up as no one had before, and had accepted him regardless of the situation.

As they were on the way home, in the back of a cab that would likely cost far too much money, Jinwoo asked, “What if I was someone else?”

Myungjun, drunk and giggling, had asked, “What does that even _mean_ , babe?”

He curled into Jinwoo’s side, running a hand up and down his chest, feeling the outline of his muscles beneath his shirt. Jinwoo, not wanting Myungjun to pull up any clothing on accident, gently removed his boyfriend’s hand and zipped up his jacket, blocking access to his clothes. Myungjun whined, but made no move to undo Jinwoo’s actions.

“I mean,” Jinwoo said, “what if...what if I wasn’t a photographer? What if I was, like, some sort of gangster or...or bad person?”

“Well, you’re not.”

“What if I _was?_ ” Jinwoo was drunk and desperate to figure out how much of his past and present and future he could reveal until Myungjun would hate him.

Myungjun scoffed and planted a kiss onto Jinwoo’s cheek. “I’d still find you attractive,” he whispered, then kissed Jinwoo’s nose. “I’d still find you unbearably hot.”

Myungjun called him _hot_. Jinwoo’s previous concerns melted away, and he was instead invested into how much attention Myungjun was lavishing upon him. “Sunshine, you’re too tipsy,” he whispered, though perhaps it was a little louder than he’d like. The cab driver looked at them in the rearview mirror, clearly disturbed. Jinwoo found it funny, for some reason, and giggled. “Sunshine, he thinks we’re gross.”

The cab driver snapped his eyes back on the road.

Myungjun laughed, along with Jinwoo, and latched himself onto Jinwoo’s arm. “I don’t mind being gross if I’m with you,” he said, sappy and silly.

 _I love him_ , Jinwoo thought.

He paid the cab driver, offering a little bit more as a tip than the driver deserved but too drunk to actually care much about it. Myungjun tried to remain silent as he opened the door to his house, keys jingling and his own body hitting the doorway as he made his way inside.

“I should go home,” Jinwoo murmured.

“No!” Myungjun whispered - again, louder than need be. “No, you should stay!”

“Myungjun-”

“It’s late, and I’m worried you might not get home safe.” Myungjun pulled Jinwoo inside without much warning, then quickly shut the door behind the both of them. It slammed, and Jinwoo _knew_ the sound was likely to have been heard around the house. Fortunately, it was late enough that the lights were off, indicating Sanha and his parents were in bed, hopefully asleep.

Still, Jinwoo’s mind was clear enough to know that sleeping over at his boyfriend’s house was bound to have certain implications. Those implications might also not be so unfounded, especially when Myungjun instantly turned and latched onto his lips, kissing him deeply and sloppily and pushing him up against a wall.

“You really are so hot,” he mumbled into Jinwoo’s lips. “Remember - remember ice skating?”

Jinwoo remembered ice-skating, and he wasn’t sure why it was so important at the moment. He drew his head back, capturing a bit of breath, and smartly said, “Huh?”

Myungjun giggled and went back to kissing. There was more tongue than lips, and Jinwoo’s mind was a muddled, hazy mess. “Ice-skating,” Myungjun moaned out, “and-and I spilled my hot chocolate.”

Oh. _Oh_ , he did recall that suddenly, and he froze where he stood, eyes wide as he realized where Myungjun was going to take this.

“You said...we needed a _bed_.” The boy grinned deviously over at him. His lips were pink and his eyes were alight with anticipation. “I have a bed.”

Before he could kiss Jinwoo anymore, though, Jinwoo stopped him, placing a hand on his chest. He was happy he was still slightly sober, or else his own desires would have definitely overtaken his logic.

“Let’s, um...let’s not do this tonight,” he suggested.

Myungjun pouted. “Why not?” he asked. “You said-”

“I know what I said that day.” Jinwoo nodded his head, but still refused Myungjun to continue his actions. He longed to go further; with Myungjun looking at him like this, so innocent and yet so sexy, Jinwoo _longed_ to take things one step further. He wanted to display his love in a way that would be so deep and emotional, a way that could leave a lasting impact. But not yet. Not when his scars and tattoos were still hidden underneath his shirt, when he was still unsure of how Myungjun would react to learning the truth. “But...I’d rather do it when we’re both sober,” he whispered, moving some of Myungjun’s sweaty hair from his eyes. “Our first time when we’re drunk like this wouldn’t...it wouldn’t be memorable, Sunshine. I’d regret it forever and ever.” Myungjun didn’t respond, and so Jinwoo smiled and tapped his nose. “And you definitely would, too. Trust me; I know you well enough by now. This is _not_ what either of us truly want.”

He half expected Myungjun to argue with him, but the boy seemed to readily accept things. He nodded his head and took an extra step away from Jinwoo, stumbling a bit on his feet. “Ah...you’re right,” he murmured. “I was being silly.”

“You’re not silly. You’re just a little turned on right now because you’re drunk.” Jinwoo grabbed his hand and smiled over at him. “Do you want me to sleep on the couch? Do you think you can control yourself in bed?”

Myungjun scoffed and began to pull Jinwoo over to his bedroom. “I’m the master of control,” he said. “We won’t touch each other _all night_.”

“That’s unfortunate.” Jinwoo tsked, and as Myungjun closed the door to his bedroom, Jinwoo murmured, “I’d like to be the big spoon.”

“Our first time cuddling in sleep, and _you_ get to be the big spoon?” Myungjun whined. “I’m older by two years, Jinwoo! Let _me_ be the big spoon.”

They compromised, though. Myungjun flopped in bed, prepared to fight for his position of _big spoon_ , and Jinwoo, not one to lose, also fell into the bed and instantly gripped at Myungjun’s body and held him close.

Both still wore their clothes from the bar; neither seemed to mind.

Myungjun didn’t turn away from Jinwoo’s chest, and Jinwoo didn’t turn away from the top of Myungjun’s head. They molded into each other, cuddling without proper spooning, and Jinwoo realized that this position was much more preferable than what he had in mind.

He felt so pleased with life right then, so satisfied with how things were turning out for him. He never quite expected a romance such as _this_ , of course, a romance that was so soft and pure and sweet, a romance that made him feel as if he wasn’t just some gang member with no family. He felt like he had a family, even within Myungjun’s own parents and brother. He felt as if he belonged somewhere for the first time in his life. He felt as if he was truly loved, despite Myungjun never once uttering those words.

 _I love him_ , Jinwoo thought to himself, gazing upon Myungjun’s serene, sleeping face. _I love him, I love him, I love him_.

He could no longer hold it in. He was too filled with love to hold it all in.

But before he could say a word, before he could blurt it out, Myungjun grabbed onto his jacket, long, slender fingers forming into tight fists. He moaned in exhaustion and buried his face into Jinwoo’s shirt, breathing in the stench of alcohol and sweat and whatever aftershave Jinwoo had possibly used that day (not that Jinwoo remembered anything at the moment).

“Jinwoo?” Myungjun asked, words slurred.

He was likely in a sleeping state, likely just talking through his sleep, but Jinwoo didn’t care. Jinwoo would answer Myungjun no matter what.

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

The words came so suddenly, so clearly, and Myungjun fell silent after that. Jinwoo wondered if he could hear his heart pounding away in his ribcage. Jinwoo wondered if he could feel the joy that seeped through every part of his body.

 _I love him_.

“I love you, too,” he whispered, and he held Myungjun as close to him as possible. “I love you, Myungjun.”

There was no response, but he didn’t need one. He was satisfied enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this angst tag is useless perhaps we should rid ourselves of it ;D
> 
> please follow me on my [tumblr](http://www.vonseal.tumblr.com) or on my [twitter](https://twitter.com/nightmjare) (i comment more regularly on twitter now oops)! i'll give spoilers and updates and whatnot on either platform! i also post my update schedule onto twitter, so if you're curious when this fic will release chapter thirteen, check there!


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **chapter warnings:** a copious amount of fluff and the fam misunderstands

Jinwoo couldn’t remember the last time he woke with such warmth in his heart. He couldn’t recall the last time he was curled up next to someone he loved feeling nothing but calm and peace. Perhaps at one point, when his mother was still alive, he might have felt similar, but this was still  _ different _ . This was a love that was not replicated easily, a love he could never give to his mother, a love that he held solely for Myungjun.

He wondered, briefly, if he had imagined Myungjun’s confession of love uttered before they had gone to sleep. He wondered maybe if he had also imagined his own response, returning that love.

It was no matter, though, because regardless of whether or not it happened, Jinwoo  _ loved _ Myungjun. He loved him fully and completely. He loved every single last bit of him. He didn’t think he’d ever love anyone else quite the same way. It was a feeling that he couldn’t contain very well, a feeling that longed to burst from his chest. He wanted to proclaim to the world just how much he loved and cherished and adored the beautiful man sleeping in his arms.

He planted a small kiss onto Myungjun’s forehead and allowed his lips to linger for a few extra seconds. “I love you,” he murmured, though he knew Myungjun wouldn’t hear him, not while he was still asleep. He kissed Myungjun’s nose and sighed deeply. “God, Myungjun, I love you so much.”

Jinwoo found it exhilarating, the love he held for Myungjun. He found it all so brand new and exciting. He wondered, if Myungjun truly did love him, if he felt the same way. He wondered if Myungjun’s heart pounded in his chest whenever they met up with each other, or if Myungjun’s nerves were calm the moment they laid eyes on each other. He  _ hoped _ it wasn’t just him who felt such feelings - though, if it were, Jinwoo wouldn’t care. He would love Myungjun no matter what.

Myungjun shifted in his sleep. They were both still wearing their clothing from before, still bundled up in sweaters and coats and jackets. Jinwoo was hot underneath all of the layers, but he was happy, at least, he was sober enough to keep his clothing on, so as to not reveal the scarring and tattoos underneath. Myungjun looked far more uncomfortable, however; he had always worn more layers than Jinwoo, and now inside of a house with good heat, it was clear that he was sweating profusely. 

“Poor baby,” Jinwoo whispered, and he kissed Myungjun, this time on his lips. “Sunshine, wake up. Let’s change you into something more cozy.”

It was probably a mixture of the heat and Jinwoo’s touches that finally caused Myungjun to blearily blink open his eyes. The boy stared over at him instantly, and his features softened, though sweat still glistened on his forehead. “Good morning, Jinwoo,” he greeted.

Jinwoo smiled. “The sun has risen,” he teased.

Myungjun giggled, then sat up in bed. As he did, he groaned out and brought a hand up to slap over his face. “I forgot how much we drank last night,” he complained, running his fingers through his hair. “I have a headache.”

“I can go get you some medicine, if you want,” Jinwoo offered.

Myungjun shook his head, though, and leaned into Jinwoo’s chest as he, too, sat up. “No. I’d rather be lazy today with you. Just...just let me take off this coat. God, I can’t believe I slept all night sweating this much.”

He was slow moving as he let his coat drop to the floor. He also took off his mittens, and he pushed aside the beanie that had come off during the night’s tossing and turning, anyway, and then he seemed to look much better.

Jinwoo took off his own coat, thankful that his shirt underneath had long sleeves so as to hide everything away. 

“Why don’t you seem ill?” Myungjun asked, whining slightly. “You drank a lot, too.”

“Not nearly as much as you,” Jinwoo fibbed. He knew he would likely have higher alcohol tolerance than Myungjun. He had been drinking for far longer, far  _ more _ than Myungjun ever did, and his body was more used to it. Myungjun, likely only going out for drinks on occasion, had to suffer the consequences alone.

Myungjun groaned again, then flopped back over in bed. “I have to open the shop today,” he complained. “But I don’t think I can. I’m too hungover. You think...you think Sanha will take over for me, just for today? Minhyuk could help him, too.”

“If you ask nicely, he just might agree,” Jinwoo said. He quite liked the idea of staying in bed all day with Myungjun. It was domestic and cute, and he could cuddle as much as he wanted. So he, too, laid back down and buried his nose into Myungjun’s neck, kissing at his skin.

He wanted to ask about what they said to each other before they went to sleep. He wanted to know if Myungjun remembered, or if it was just something uttered in a drunken craze. He couldn’t come right out and question Myungjun, however, in case his boyfriend just didn’t  _ mean _ to say it.

Before he could contemplate any further what to do, the door to Myungjun’s bedroom opened suddenly. Sanha poked his head in, eyes narrowed, but when he examined the room and seemed satisfied enough, he walked fully inside. “Hi,” Sanha greeted. He had a tray of soup in his hand, as well as large glasses of water and some sort of medicine off to the side. “Mom made some haejangguk for you two.”

Myungjun blinked up at Sanha, then asked, “How did she know we were hungover, though?”

Sanha rolled his eyes. “We all heard you two come in. You aren’t really that quiet, Myungjun,  _ especially _ when you’re drunk.” 

Jinwoo watched as Myungjun’s cheeks turned pink and as his eyes widened. “H-How much did you hear?” 

“I heard you begging Jinwoo to stay. And then I heard gross kissing.” Sanha smirked as he set the tray of food down on the bed, minding the legs of the two boys in it. “Mom heard it all, too. She just asked me to make sure you had…” He glanced behind him, then looked back at Myungjun and whispered, “-protection.”

Myungjun blanched, but still managed to scoff. “We didn’t do that, Sanha. Look, we’re still in our clothes from yesterday!”

“Minhyuk once told me you can  _ do it _ without even taking off your clothes, though!”

“Minhyuk is full of absolute garbage.” Myungjun grabbed a small plush from behind him and held it up, threatening Sanha with a stuffed toy. Jinwoo wanted to smile from how ridiculous and cute the situation was, but he couldn’t, not when Myungjun was growing frustrated. “Get out, Sanha. And tell Mom we  _ didn’t do anything! _ ”

Sanha left, not before giving a small, “Yeah, right.” The door was shut behind them again, and Myungjun cleared his throat in embarrassment.

“Sorry about him,” Myungjun mumbled. He grabbed one of the bowls of soup and passed it over to Jinwoo before picking up the medicine. “But, uh, I...I don’t know how much of last night you really remember. I mean, it’s a little fuzzy for me, too.”

Fuzzy wasn’t good. Fuzzy meant that it was very likely Myungjun forgot all about the confession. And if Myungjun forgot about the confession, then Jinwoo shouldn’t bring it up or mention a single word concerning  _ love _ or anything of the sort. “Slightly fuzzy for me,” Jinwoo lied. He popped one of the pills Myungjun handed him into his mouth, then downed it with some water. 

Myungjun didn’t take any medicine for himself. Jinwoo was reminded of when he was sick and refused his medication. It seemed now was a similar circumstance, and Jinwoo tried his best to hide his smile.

“Well...we, uh, we  _ didn’t _ have sex, in any case,” Myungjun stammered out. He didn’t meet Jinwoo’s gaze. He looked dreadfully nervous, and he played with his fingers as a result of his slight anxiety. “We didn’t, didn’t even touch each other over our clothes. B-Because I think that’s what Sanha was referring to, you know. Um...mutual...m-mastur...well, you know! We didn’t even do  _ that _ .”

Jinwoo thought Myungjun was cute. Myungjun was horribly cute, terribly cute, the cutest person Jinwoo had ever seen before in his entire life, and Jinwoo loved him so very much. And in that moment, with all the love Jinwoo held for Myungjun, he felt the burning desire to tease him. “How do you know we didn’t do it?” he asked, smirking.

Myungjun’s jaw clenched up. “Because...I-I’d remember something like that.”

“I don’t know. You got pretty drunk.” Jinwoo leaned in close again and kissed Myungjun’s cheek. “What if you just don’t remember?”

“I…” Myungjun started, but he couldn’t finish his sentence, because Jinwoo trailed a finger over his hip, toying with the band of his jeans. “Jinwoo-”

“It might be something we have to check.”

Jinwoo wanted to keep the act up for a little bit longer, but the shock in Myungjun’s eyes was too funny. He started laughing, and he drew his hand back and planted another kiss onto Myungjun’s cheek. “I’m messing with you, Sunshine. I know we didn’t do anything. I remember everything from last night, and, like you said, we’d both remember something like that.”

He could see relief form on Myungjun’s face, but then the boy smacked his chest. “You’re a jerk!” he fussed. “God, don’t act like that! You were making me...making me nervous.”

Jinwoo knew he was making Myungjun hot, as well, and a little turned on, but he didn’t dwell on that. There was no reason to, so he instead sipped at his bowl of soup and hummed in appreciation.

“Though,” Myungjun continued, glancing over at him. “You, uh, you said you remember everything from last night?”

Jinwoo met his gaze and slowly nodded his head. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Do you?”

“I remember…” Myungjun cleared his throat. “You, uh, you can tell me if I’m overstepping boundaries, or-or if I’m remembering things wrong - maybe, I don’t know, maybe I’m making a mistake, but...I told you that...I mean, last night, I said...do you remember what I said to you?”

He was suspicious. He  _ knew _ , probably, he remembered it all, but he didn’t want to say anything in fear  _ Jinwoo _ might not remember.

Jinwoo felt ecstatic. So Myungjun  _ did _ recall those words! Myungjun was well aware of their confessions. “I do,” Jinwoo exclaimed, nodding his head. “I didn’t...I didn’t know if you would, but  _ I _ remember them, and I don’t know if it was a mistake you said them, but I meant it. I meant it more than you could ever know, Sunshine, I mean it now and forever.”

Myungjun perked up, and a smile formed on his face. “You...love me?”

He finally said the words, and Jinwoo returned the grin Myungjun gave him, his heart soaring up to the clouds. “I do!” he repeated himself. “I love you! I love you so much! I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone before, and I’ll never stop loving you, I don’t think.”

Myungjun beamed over at him, a glowing, brilliant grin that Jinwoo longed to see every single day. “I love you!” Myungjun responded, and he leaned into Jinwoo’s body, wrapping his arms around him and holding him close. “I will never stop loving you, too!”

Jinwoo couldn’t believe how incredibly fortunate he had become. He assumed, all throughout life, that he would only ever be dealt the short end of the stick. After all, he was a member of a despised gang and he had no family and he lived in a rundown room in a bad part of town. He forced himself to fit into a group he knew he didn’t belong to. He had never expected love to hit him in its purest, most innocent form.

And, yet, it did. And, yet, Myungjun came into his life, saving him from all the sadness and pain he believed he would experience for the rest of his existence.

Myungjun loved  _ him _ . How on earth did he become so lucky and earn Myungjun’s love? How on earth could Myungjun love him?

“Have I ever told you how perfect you are?” Jinwoo asked, cooing as he kissed Myungjun’s forehead. Myungjun giggled and curled in all the closer to Jinwoo, minding the soup that he held onto with one hand. “Seriously, Myungjun, have I truly explained just how much I adore you today? Have you heard me express the full extent of my love yet?”

“I figured!” Myungjun exclaimed, voice slightly muffled as he buried his face into Jinwoo’s sweater. “With the way you always held my hand and hugged me and...and kissed me. And, I mean, you helped out at  _ The Star _ and didn’t get paid a single dime for it, so-”

“Oh, I got paid,” Jinwoo replied, shaking his head.

Payment was received when he realized he could just spend the majority of the day staring at Myungjun. As he cooked, or as he washed dishes, or as he set the tables in the restaurant, Myungjun would always be close by. Even if Jinwoo was unable to see him, he could  _ hear _ him, somewhere in the shop, and he would always feel at ease with their proximity. He couldn’t think of anything better than to work alongside Myungjun, and even if he didn’t have any cash or check to show for his time, he still felt as if it was all worthwhile.

Myungjun frowned, obviously a bit confused, then shook his head. “No. You didn’t. Unless Dad paid you, which he  _ shouldn’t _ be doing, because I’m in charge of the payroll, and I don’t think I added you on - I can, though, even though I know you said not to. I think you deserve to get paid for your time. Minhyuk even gets paid, and I could just force him to work regardless-”

Myungjun had to quiet down a little when Jinwoo swooped in and pressed a kiss up against his lips. He heard his boyfriend hum into the short kiss, and when he drew back, Myungjun’s nose was pink and his eyes were wide.

“Sorry,” Jinwoo apologized. “You just...you’re so damn cute sometimes, I really can’t help it.”

“You don’t...I-I mean, you shouldn’t apologize for, uh, for kissing me,” Myungjun stammered. He licked his lips, obviously flustered despite his words, then said, “We’re in...in love, aren’t we? We’re in love, and people who are in love like to kiss each other, don’t they?’

“They do,” Jinwoo confirmed, and he appreciated Myungjun’s words, because it gave him all the more reason to kiss Myungjun again. This kiss was longer and softer. Myungjun wrapped his arms around Jinwoo’s body once more and held onto him tightly, and Jinwoo thought he might never release Myungjun from his grasp had the door suddenly not opened again.

This time, it was Myungjun’s mother, who viewed the scene with a quiet, “oh,” before smiling kindly at the two of them. “I hope I’m not interrupting,” she whispered.

Jinwoo set the soup back onto its tray as Myungjun groaned and pulled back. “Mom!” he exclaimed. “Can you  _ knock? _ ”

“You’re my baby boy! I’m allowed to burst into your room if I feel like it.”

“I’m twenty-three, Mom!”

His mother simply shrugged. She never once lost her smile. “I was just checking to make sure the soup was doing its job,” she said.

Myungjun hadn’t touched his soup, but Jinwoo decided to speak for the both of them. “It is, Mrs. Kim,” he said, bowing his head shortly in appreciation. “It’s delicious - I think I know where Myungjun gets his cooking.”

She grinned now. “I like to dabble in it often. Oh, Myungjun, he’s a flirt. I like him a lot. But I hope Sanha told you that I’d prefer protection, so if you need any advice on-”

“Oh my  _ god!  _ Mom, seriously, get out!” Myungjun exclaimed. He looked completely embarrassed, but he assumed that was what Mrs. Kim had come to do. She laughed as she exited the room, unperturbed by her son’s frustration.

“Sorry,” Myungjun mumbled once they were by themselves again. “We just keep getting interrupted when all we’re trying to do is  _ kiss _ .” He sighed loudly and flopped back into bed. “I love them, and I like it here, but I think once  _ The Star _ is fully established and I’m earning enough money, I’m going to go off and try living on my own for a bit.”

Jinwoo settled down beside him. “Being alone isn’t that great,” he murmured, thinking of his deceased mother and his lonely apartment space. “If you can afford your own place, wouldn’t it be nice to share it with someone?”

Myungjun glanced over at him, soft, brown eyes searching and curious. “Sure,” Myungjun said. “But it has to be the right person, doesn’t it? It has to be someone you trust and love beyond all measure.”

“That would be nice.” Jinwoo smiled lazily at his boyfriend. “Did you have anyone in mind, then, to act as a roommate?”

Myungjun giggled. Jinwoo already knew the answer; Myungjun  _ knew _ that Jinwoo knew the answer. He curled in close to him and sighed into his chest. “Hm. I don’t know. I was thinking, maybe, I could have Minhyuk with me. Someone I trust and love-”

Jinwoo whined, but Myungjun just laughed again. He looked up, planting a kiss onto Jinwoo’s chin, then whispered, “You know I’m just kidding. I’d love to live with you, maybe, if we could move in together one day.”

Jinwoo couldn’t help but smile. It was a lovely dream, sharing a domestic life with Myungjun.

But all it would ever amount to was a dream. And all Jinwoo could ever do was play the dream in his head and pretend that it would happen in reality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: loses followers bc some yall came for this nonexistent angst
> 
> please follow me on my [tumblr](http://www.vonseal.tumblr.com) or on my [twitter](https://twitter.com/nightmjare) (i comment more regularly on twitter now oops)! i'll give spoilers and updates and whatnot on either platform! i also post my update schedule onto twitter, so if you're curious when this fic will release chapter thirteen, check there!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **chapter warning:** language, homophobic language (and, in turn, slight homophobia)

Jinwoo cursed Youngsoo in his head. It was all Youngsoo’s fault that he was out here participating with his gang for the first time in a week or two. If not for his  _ friend _ , he’d probably be with Myungjun, helping him set up the shop or fix noodles or maybe just sharing kisses before customers would start arriving for the day.

Instead, he was out in the neighborhood on their stupid patrol, ensuring that a few businesses nearby had their dues to pay, money to offer up in exchange for their fake protection.

“We’re not even protecting anybody,” Jinwoo muttered to Youngsoo as they trailed behind. “They’re just paying us money so  _ we _ won’t ruin their shops.”

“We’re protecting them from ourselves,” Youngsoo joked, and when Jinwoo didn’t laugh, he smacked the boy’s back. “You’ve been acting really odd recently - is everything alright? Are you sick?”

Jinwoo wasn’t physically sick, but he felt ill continuing onward with the gang. Myungjun  _ hated _ gangs; he expressed his dislike of them on occasion, and he had good reason to hate them so much. Other gang members, men who cared nothing for social norms, liked to show up and threaten him. Jinwoo was terrified one day they would do something, but Myungjun unwisely told him it was all an act. “They’re all bark and no bite,” he had said, waving off Jinwoo’s concerns. Myungjun claimed they had been around so often and yet nothing had ever been done. Jinwoo hoped Myungjun’s shop was small enough that it wouldn’t matter to the other gang, and he hoped Myungjun never had to deal with the issue of his livelihood being ruined because of gangs.

He hadn’t realized he had drifted off into thought until Youngsoo nudged him. Jinwoo glanced at his friend, who raised his eyebrows at him. “What’re you doing?” Youngsoo whispered. “I asked if you’re sick - you are, aren’t you? You’re acting really weird.”

Perhaps if he claimed to be sick, they would let him off a little early. If he claimed to be sick, he could go home and sleep, or else go visit Myungjun at  _ The Star _ .

“I don’t know,” he mumbled, as their small group turned the corner. “I just think-”

He didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence, before he unfortunately realized where he and the others were.

Myungjun’s shop was right down the street.

It was such a familiar neighborhood, and yet Jinwoo hadn’t been paying attention. He hadn’t realized they had gone down the path he walked down every single day. He froze in his steps, and only Youngsoo noticed. “Why are we  _ here? _ ” he asked in a whisper.

Youngsoo smiled nervously. “Um, because a few other gangs have been scoping out this area, and considering some of us live around here, it makes more sense that  _ we _ control this spot, right?”

Jinwoo didn’t want to  _ control _ anything. He just wanted to run away, to live freely without any sort of illegal nonsense hanging over his head. He wanted to take Myungjun with him, to cherish each other and only each other for the rest of their days.

But he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t do anything, not without Youngsoo now regarding him closely. “Right,” Jinwoo responded, nodding his head. He had to steel himself. He had to pretend their sudden proximity to  _ The Star _ wasn’t affecting him. And, above all else, he had to make sure Myungjun didn’t see him.

Part of him wanted to claim he was sick, to leave and pretend nothing was going on. However, as he watched some of the gang enter in one shop, he realized he couldn’t do that. The members were large and threatening, and he was so scared they would hurt Myungjun if they went near his little ramen shop.

“Do you need to go home?” Youngsoo asked. “Because if you’re sick, I can let them know.”

“I’m fine.” Jinwoo took a deep breath, then set his eyes on a small shop he never frequented, despite his many visits down this path. It was a shoe store, with fancy displays lining the window. Jinwoo prayed no one inside recognized him. “Let’s go talk to the owners of that one,” he said to Youngsoo. The older man grinned and nodded in agreement, and together they entered the shop.

Jinwoo’s heart pounded all the while. He tried to appear cool and calm, crossing his arms over his chest as the owner greeted them kindly, but he instead just felt flustered and out of place. He knew he shouldn’t be here. He knew he shouldn’t be doing this. Peer pressure, though, made him ask, “You don’t have any security systems in place here, do you?”

The owner blinked, then pointed over at the door. “That’s alarmed,” he said.

He was an older gentleman. He looked sweet. Jinwoo hated this. “No cameras, though. Someone could break in and be out in a matter of a few seconds. The police would never know who it would be.” Jinwoo raised his eyebrows and stepped forward again. “I think those shoes you have on display might be worth some money. And if I’m ever desperate for funds...well…”

“Are...are you threatening me?” the man stammered out.

“No. I’d  _ never _ threaten you.” Jinwoo knew he just had to play the part. He had to pretend to be the big, scary gang member, and then, after this shop, maybe the others would be finished. Maybe things would go smoothly. Maybe he could go home without ever once ruining things with Myungjun. “However, I have friends who might be less kind than I am.”

“What d-do you want?” The owner glanced over at Youngsoo, his eyes wide and desperate. “Do...do you need money? Are you homeless?”

Jinwoo shook his head and smirked. The smile didn’t feel right on his lips. It didn’t feel natural. He felt fake and pathetic, and he hated himself more and more with each passing moment. “Not homeless. Though...let’s say we were to offer up our services. We’d help  _ you _ , for a small fee every month. We’d ensure that  _ no one _ , least of all ourselves, breaks into your shop and steals such wonderful, expensive merchandise.”

It was definitely a threat. The owner knew it, too, what with the way his eyebrows furrowed together in thought. Jinwoo pursed his lips and looked innocent as he shrugged his shoulders. “If you refuse, I can’t guarantee things will turn out smoothly for you.”

He had the man exactly where he was supposed to. He had things turning out exactly as they ought to. It made him feel miserable inside as the old man nodded his head in defeat, and agreed to the terms Youngsoo laid out for him.

He was paying a large price just to make sure that Jinwoo’s friends didn’t smash in his shop windows.

At times like this, Jinwoo would always feel a lump in his throat. He would attempt to swallow around the guilt that was swirling in his mind, the guilt that would never leave him alone. It had been made worse, though, with Myungjun’s constant, bright presence in his life. Now, he was reminded of how terrible he truly was, of all the wrong things he was doing. Myungjun was good and kind, and Myungjun despised people who looked down on others.

He would despise Jinwoo’s actions, if only he could see them right now.

They exited the shop. Youngsoo was ecstatic, talking about how older shop owners were the easiest to trick, the ones who were most worrisome about their shop being defiled, and Jinwoo wondered if he was actually becoming physically ill now.

He looked up as they walked and kicked at a small rock in the way of the path. “Where are the others?” he mumbled.

“Not sure,” Youngsoo replied, and then called out. “Taewoong! Come here!”

It was someone else in the gang, with piercings down his ears and one above his eyebrow, with tattoos that littered half his face and the entirety of his body. He had just stuck a cigarette in his mouth, and when he stepped closer to them, he offered one to Jinwoo.

Jinwoo tried not to smoke often, but he decided to take one of the sticks now, at least, in an attempt to calm the rising stress levels in his chest. He lit it and took a long drag, then asked, “Are the others still busy? I think we should leave.”

“Why?” Taewoong asked. He glanced behind him, then back at Jinwoo. “Most of the shop owners are nervous with our presence. I don’t think we should go home  _ just _ yet. We’re making some good money and some good pledges.” 

Jinwoo was ready to fuss at him, or else declare himself too sick to continue, but then he heard the sound of glass breaking. He, Taewoong, and Youngsoo all turned in shock, and Jinwoo’s heart plummeted in his chest when he saw the windows to  _ The Star _ shattering. A chair had been thrown, from the looks of it, and even though Jinwoo was far enough away, he could hear Myungjun’s angry voice yelling at the culprits, at Jinwoo’s supposed  _ friends _ .

“Shit,” Jinwoo hissed. He stepped forward, then caught himself. If he showed up now, if he went to defend Myungjun’s honor, then his relationship would more than likely be finished. Why would Myungjun date someone who associated with the people who were ruining his shop? And, even if Myungjun chose to stay with him, Jinwoo would make an enemy with the entire gang. He didn’t dare go up against them.

So, like a coward, he stayed behind, head bowed and jaw clenched as he allowed himself to worry about only  _ Jinwoo _ , as he allowed his boyfriend to be mistreated by the men that he would go home with and count money with.

“We’re going to get in trouble,” he said to the two men with him. “The cops will come - we need to get out of here.”

“Why the hell did they break the windows?” Taewoong complained. He put his cigarette out with his shoe, leaving it discarded on the ground. Jinwoo followed suit, but not before taking one more long puff, hands shaking as he pulled the cigarette from his mouth.

“Because they’re idiots,” Youngsoo responded, and he called out, “Guys, what the fuck?”

He seemed to have alerted the gang members causing the issue, and they came storming from Myungjun’s shop, not before cursing the man and yelling obscenities at him. Jinwoo fumed inside, but he tried to show no sort of anger to any of them. Instead, he just zipped his jacket up and pulled the hoodie over his hair, hiding his face. He didn’t want Myungjun to look out the broken window after them. He didn’t want Myungjun to see him for the terrible bastard he truly was.

“The little bitch wouldn’t give us any money,” one of the man spat. “And he had the fucking gall to threaten  _ us _ . As if the queer could do anythin-”

“Don’t call him that,” Jinwoo snapped. His hands had formed fists by his side, and he had forgotten, suddenly, that was was supposed to stay quiet and composed during these, that he wasn’t supposed to let anything at all frustrate him. He didn't want to hear it, though. He didn’t want to hear these people calling his darling boyfriend horrible names.

The other gang members stared at him in surprise, save for Taewoong, who seemed to be the only sane person left. “What the fuck are you guys doing?” he asked. “We should be getting away - he’s probably going to call the cops.”

Jinwoo hoped he did. Jinwoo hoped everyone else got arrested. And, while he was dreaming, Jinwoo hoped that Myungjun would still love him, regardless of who he was and what he had become.

They all split up after that, heading their own ways so as to lower their chances of being caught. Jinwoo wasn’t too concerned about himself. No description of him would be given to the police, and, even if somehow it was, the police wouldn’t do anything. They never did. Many of them were paid off to keep silent, as well, and so the gang could continue to operate as normal.

Jinwoo hated it.

He wished everyone in his gang would get in trouble. If he hadn’t met Myungjun, he wished he, too, would get in trouble. He wished he could end this nightmare-ish life he led and focus solely on how lovely Myungjun was, and how much more his life could be if not for his awful, stupid mistakes made early on in his life.

He waited for the bus with another cigarette in his mouth, thanks to Taewoong, and took shaky breaths, puffs of smoke billowing forth, as he imagined what Myungjun would do if only he knew.

He imagined being all alone again, living life the way he lived before he ever met Myungjun. It was a dreadful existence, and such a dreadful thought of returning to such a position.

It would be even worse now, though, after having experienced such a love, to allow it to be taken from him.

The bus came, and Jinwoo boarded it after putting out his cigarette. He scanned his bus card, then stood, grasping onto the handles of the bus to allow others the chance to sit.

His phone vibrated in his pocket, and Jinwoo fished it out.

_ [from: Sunshine] jinwoo where are you??? :( _

Jinwoo squeezed his eyes shut for a brief second before opening them and typing out a response with one hand.

_ [to: Sunshine] still at a shoot. family paid me for more photos with their dog. why??? are u ok sunshine? _

He knew what the answer would be though. He hated lying, and he hated acting so innocent when he definitely played a part in Myungjun’s pain and sadness.

_ [from: Sunshine] no. im rlly upset and i cant believe what happened. _

And then he sent the picture. Jinwoo stared at it with anger, blood boiling with hatred for his gang. The windows Jinwoo had always liked to stare through, stare right at Myungjun through, had been shattered, a chair tossed right through them. Jagged pieces stood straight up everywhere and littered the ground, both inside and out.

But he had to play dumb. He had to pretend he had no idea what was going on.

_ [to: Sunshine] what happened???? are you alright? do you need me to come over?? _

_ [from: Sunshine] no. its going to be ok. dads here and were filing a police report rn. _

_ [from: Sunshine] it was this stupid gang. they walked in and started threatening me and telling me i’d better pay them or else they’d ruin my shop. i told them to try me, bc u know id never ever give them money and usually they leave but this time they tossed a chair into our windows! and then they called me names and told me they’d destroy more than property if i didn’t pay them. Im mad. _

_ [from: Sunshine] and im scared. _

Jinwoo wanted nothing more than to stop the bus and run back to  _ The Star _ . He would scoop Myungjun up in his arms and hold him forever, shielding him from all that was bad. They could run away together, open up a new noodle shop, and it would just be the two of them, deterred by nothing at all.

They would have nothing but their love for each other. Jinwoo was certain that was all they would need.

He wasn’t even sure how to respond anymore. He longed to condemn these actions that forced Myungjun and his family into this situation, but he would be hypocritical all the while if he were to do that.

Still, he couldn’t just leave it alone, especially when he hated what happened, so he responded.

_ [to: Sunshine] im going to come over _

He knew Myungjun would stop him. Myungjun never wanted him to give up his fake job that Jinwoo lied so often about.

_ [from: Sunshine] no dont! its fine, honest, dad is helping me take care of it. you need to keep working. earn money and take me out for a nice lunch one day lol. _

Jinwoo felt shame wash over him. He wasn’t going to go back to check on Myungjun. A good boyfriend, probably, would go regardless of what was said. If Jinwoo wanted to be good, he would go see if everything was alright, but because he was selfish and scared to show who he truly was, he stayed on the bus, allowing it to drive him home.

_ [to: Sunshine] I’ll be by tomorrow to help pick things up. _

He hesitated, then added one extra text.

_ [to: Sunshine] i love u. _

He pocketed the phone after that, unwilling to face Myungjun’s sweet response. He didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve any love Myungjun had to give him.

The bus jolted to a stop, and while Jinwoo knew this was  _ his _ stop, he didn’t get off. He didn’t know what he’d do once he was home, and so he stayed on the bus instead, continuing to stand, moving slightly to allow other people the chance to sit down.

It was hot and stuffy, and he pushed his sleeves up in an effort to cool down slightly, but he felt eyes on him. He felt judgemental, sharp eyes on him, staring at his arms, staring at the tattoos that ran down to his elbows, and up where the fabric hid them. He had slurs and dirty language, depictions of violence and sex, and those small tattoos that identified which gang he was a part of. There was one they couldn’t see, too, one of a daffodil, the only tattoo that truly signified who Jinwoo was as a person. But what they couldn’t see, they couldn’t take into account. All they would know of him was what they saw.

He cleared his throat, and out of humiliation, tugged his sleeves down again. Still, people stared.

Jinwoo got off at the next stop. It was unfamiliar, but he didn't care. He simply sat down at the bench by the bus stop and buried his head into his hands.

Right then, more than anything, he longed to truly become a daffodil and to truly blossom by the grace and beauty of Sunshine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we got our first round of angst. will we have a second round?
> 
> please follow me on my [tumblr](http://www.vonseal.tumblr.com) or on my [twitter](https://twitter.com/nightmjare) (i comment more regularly on twitter now oops)! i'll give spoilers and updates and whatnot on either platform! i also post my update schedule onto twitter, so if you're curious when this fic will release chapter fifteen, check there!


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **chapter warning:** language, more homophobic language (and, in turn, slightly extreme homophobia)

The window to  _ The Star _ was definitely ruined. Jinwoo felt guilt eat him alive as he stared upon the mess Myungjun’s shop had become. Myungjun, to his credit, didn’t seem down at all by the state of affairs. He was still optimistic that those gang members could be caught. He had filed a police report, and he explained that the police would know how to handle the situation. Jinwoo didn’t have the heart to tell him otherwise.

“Since I gave them a lot of detail on their looks, I don’t see how they could remain unnoticed,” Myungjun said, setting down a bowl of ramen for Jinwoo. “I still can’t believe they did that. You know, the last gang members that came by were jerks, and they ruined stuff, but they didn’t  _ destroy _ my shop. They just left it messy.” And Jinwoo remembered that instance, when they toppled over a table and Myungjun still stood strong. His boyfriend was too perfect, and Jinwoo felt bad sullying him like this. “These jerks broke a window.” 

Myungjun glanced over at his broken window, and Jinwoo followed suit. For the moment, to keep the bugs and burglars out, it was boarded up as best Myungjun and his family could make do. They had closed the shop, as well, for renovations, and because Myungjun hated how trashy the window made his shop look.

“When will the men come to replace it?” Jinwoo asked, sipping at his ramen broth. 

“They said tomorrow sometime. Dad told them we’d pay them a bit more if they came sooner, so this as soon as they can come.” Myungjun sighed, slumping over in his seat. “You know what, though?”

“Hm?”

“I was so scared during it all.” He looked over at Jinwoo, as if slightly ashamed, then averted his gaze. “I had never...I hadn’t ever had someone threaten me like  _ that _ before. It had always been less scary and more pathetic, but this...I mean, they caused actual damage.  _ Real _ damage. They told me they’d do the same to me, and to people I cared about, if I didn’t pay them money.” He gnawed lightly at his lip and stared over at the ground. “What do I do now? What if they actually follow through with their threats?”

Jinwoo didn’t like seeing Myungjun so worried. Myungjun had always been the stronger of the two of them. Physically, sure, he probably didn’t meet Jinwoo’s level, but he was far more composed, far better at handling rough situations. He was open and honest and smart, and Jinwoo had always admired and looked up to him for that.

Now, however, he glanced over at Jinwoo with fear in his eyes.

Jinwoo reached out a hand, grasping onto Myungjun’s own hand, and shook his head. “They won’t follow through,” he whispered.

“How do you know?”

Jinwoo would make sure of it. He  _ knew _ those people, and he knew he could make them leave Myungjun alone. It would take some convincing, and it might take a bit more honesty than he had, but if it meant Myungjun would remain safe, then Jinwoo would do anything. “Because you have me,” Jinwoo said, and he offered his boyfriend a small smile. “And I will  _ never _ let anyone harm you. If it happens again, Sunshine, just call me instantly. No matter where I am or what I’m doing, I’ll drop everything to come and save you.”

His words made Myungjun return the smile, though with slight hesitation. “I’m going to hold you up to that promise, Jinnie,” Myungjun said.

“Jinnie?”

“It’s a new nickname. Mr. Photographer wasn’t cutting it. I needed something cute for you.” Myungjun laughed and then he, too, leaned over the table and squished Jinwoo’s cheeks together. “My cute Jinnie-pie! My sweet baby Jinnie!”

Jinwoo felt happy. There he was, a tough and hardened gang member, a criminal in all aspects of the word, and yet Myungjun, pure light and sunshine, was fondling his face as if he was innocent of all wrong-doings. It was delightful, and Jinwoo snorted in laughter.

His happiness was short lived, unfortunately. Just then, the doors to the shop opened. The little bell overhead rang, alerting Myungjun and Jinwoo that they had guests. Jinwoo blinked in confusion - typically, Myungjun would lock the door.

Myungjun turned in his seat to gaze at the newcomers, and when Jinwoo also looked up, he froze.

It was Youngsoo and Taewoong.

They stared at him with wide eyes, and Jinwoo knew he looked just as shocked staring back at them.

Myungjun, not noticing anything going on between the three boys, simply said, “We’re closed, sorry. I actually meant to lock the door, but I guess I forgot to do that. Um, you can come back in two days, though! We’re going to reopen then!”

Neither Youngsoo nor Taewoong responded to Myungjun’s information. Instead, they looked over Jinwoo, and finally Youngsoo asked, “Jinwoo, what the fuck are you doing here?”

Myungjun glanced at Jinwoo, eyebrows furrowed together, then over at Youngsoo again. “Do...do you know him?”

Youngsoo nodded his head in enthusiasm. Jinwoo willed him to stay silent, to not give away any vital information, and yet Youngsoo opened his stupid mouth, and confirmed, “We do! And he really shouldn’t be here - were you getting your cheeks fondled by him?”

Taewoong glanced over at the boarded window, then scoffed, “Imagine what everyone else would say if they know your boy-toy is the one they’re trying to harass.” 

“Boy-toy?” Myungjun repeated, his shoulders tense. He stood from his seat and glared at Youngsoo and Taewoong. “You two need to leave, right now. I’m  _ not _ Jinwoo’s boy-toy. I’m in love with him, and we’ve been dating-”

“Myungjun,” Jinwoo whispered, tugging at his sleeve. “Don’t bother with them.”

“No, I  _ will _ bother. They shouldn’t be calling me that. And how do  _ you _ know them, anyway?” 

Jinwoo glanced over at his two friends. Neither of them seemed to notice his look of desperation - either that, or they simply didn’t care. It was Youngsoo who answered Myungjun’s question, a quick, “We’ve been friends for a while. We’re all in the same gang, after all.”

Myungjun narrowed his eyes. “What  _ gang? _ ” he asked.

“The Double Dragons,” Taewoong responded. “Your  _ true love _ right there is part of the Double Dragons.”

“I’ve never heard of them,” Myungjun retorted, and he crossed his arms over his chest. “And, besides, even if Jinwoo  _ was _ friends with you two, he would  _ never _ be involved in a gang. You guys don’t know him, clearly.”

Taewoong smirked. He was clearly enjoying his position of knowing something Myungjun didn’t know. Youngsoo, at least, seemed more subdued, more interested in watching rather than participating. “I think we know him better than you,” Taewoong said. “For example, he has  _ tons _ of tattoos over his body. I think the one I made him get was when we were wasted, right, Jinwoo? The one of the girl sucking dick.”

“Shut up,” Jinwoo snapped. He stood from his seat and moved to stand beside Myungjun. “This place is closed, alright? We’ll all leave, if both of you just  _ shut up _ -”

“Clearly your boy-toy hasn’t seen any of your tattoos,” Taewoong mocked. “I don’t see how, either - you have them all over.”

Myungjun grabbed onto Jinwoo’s waist, holding him close. “He doesn’t have any. That’s why I haven’t seen them.”

“Roll up his sleeves, then.” Taewoong’s smile was threatening. He rolled up his own sleeves and pointed out one of his tattoos, two dragons curled over each other. “This is our symbol for the Double Dragons. Youngsoo, show him yours.”

Youngsoo glanced once at Jinwoo, hesitating, but in the end, he followed Taewoong’s instructions. He rolled up his own sleeve and tapped his tattoo. “We do all have them,” he confirmed. “And Jinwoo has one, as well.”

“That’s not true!” Myungjun snapped. “He’s not part of any  _ gang _ .”

“He was with us when your windows got smashed,” Taewoong mocked. “It was stupid of our gang to do, and Jinwoo wasn’t involved with it, but he stood by and watched it happen. He left with us, too. He didn’t say a word about you during it all, either.”

“He wasn’t with you! He was at a photoshoot! He’s a photographer, not a gangster!”

Taewoong snorted. He looked way too amused by the entire situation. He glanced over at Jinwoo, who remained silent, and asked, “Is that really what you told him? A  _ photographer? _ God, Jinwoo, you’re really a slut for him, aren’t you?”

“Don’t call him that!” Myungjun exclaimed, and he pointed at the door to his shop. “Get the hell out of my restaurant! We’re  _ closed _ , and you have no right - I’ll call the police again so they can arrest you!”

“Go ahead. Do it.” Taewoong gestured at Jinwoo. “But he’ll go to jail, too, because he’s one of us.”

Myungjun shook his head, clearly unwilling to believe what Taewoong was saying. “He  _ isn’t- _ ”

“Roll up his sleeves, then. The left one, specifically. See if we’re telling the truth - or maybe Jinwoo  _ has _ been completely truthful to you this entire time. Maybe we’re the liars. You’d like that, you fag, wouldn’t you, if your slut could just go back to sucking your dick?” He laughed and then took a step forward. Myungjun faltered, and Taewoong seemed all too pleased. “Once you roll up his sleeve and check, then we’ll go, okay? I just want to see your face when you realize how much you’ve been deceived.” 

There wasn’t much of a way Jinwoo could talk himself out of this situation. He couldn’t really lie anymore, and he couldn’t run and hide himself. No matter what he did, Myungjun would learn the truth. He felt sick to his stomach, and he felt disgusted with himself when Myungjun turned to him, eyes wide with a brand new type of fear.

The fear that Jinwoo had been playing him all along.

“Jinwoo,” Myungjun said, his voice shaking. “Can...can I see your arm?”

Jinwoo couldn’t swallow. It felt like he couldn’t breathe. He didn’t want to show Myungjun his tattoos. He didn’t for their relationship to fall through, for the intense love they shared for one another to be forgotten. Yet, that was what would happen the moment he revealed himself.

“I don’t want you to,” Jinwoo whispered.

He could see the hurt in Myungjun’s eyes now, too, the knowledge that everything he  _ thought _ was true had been proven false. He knew he was hurting Myungjun; whether he refused or complied, though, Myungjun would be hurt.

“I just...I want to see,” Myungjun said, reaching out and gently touching Jinwoo’s wrist, where his sweater sleeves came down to the top of his hand. “I want to make sure they’re...they’re lying.”

He had faltered in his words, and in that instant, Jinwoo knew Myungjun already knew. There was no way he couldn’t know - Jinwoo had tried to weasel his way out of showing his arms, so clearly Jinwoo had been lying.

It was a painful feeling, and with reluctance, Jinwoo rolled his sleeve up to his elbow.

There were many different tattoos. Some of them were colored and some of them were monochromatic. He had words, curse words in English and Russian and Korean, a heart with a dagger through it, the aforementioned woman sucking dick - and then, right on his wrist, was the symbol of the Double Dragons, smaller than either of the ones Youngsoo or Taewoong had, but visible enough, and clear enough to show who was right.

Myungjun drew in a sharp breath and then quickly pulled Jinwoo’s sleeve down, as if hiding all that he had seen away from the world.

“So,” Taewoong said, and Jinwoo shot him a glare. This was  _ his _ fault for escalating the situation. Jinwoo found hatred for him boiling in his blood. “-now that you know your boyfriend is actually scum, just like the rest of us-”

“He isn’t scum,” Myungjun snapped.

Jinwoo was confused. Why was Myungjun still defending him? He hated gangs, and he hated the members of those gangs. He had just learned Jinwoo had been lying to him, had been hiding things from him, and yet he was still trying to defend his boyfriend?

Why?

“Oh, he is,” Taewoong responded. “He’s slept around, he does drugs, he’s an addict to cigarettes. And correct me if I’m wrong, Youngsoo, but didn’t he dye his hair because he was a fucking moron and the drug deal he was working on went bad?”

Myungjun stared with wide eyes at Jinwoo, who desperately tried to defend himself. “I-I wasn’t working on a drug deal, I was - I was just - I mean, I was hired as a bodyguard-”

“You take drugs?” Myungjun asked, panicked. “An-And you...sleep with other people?”

“I haven’t since I met you!” Jinwoo assured him. “I swear, I haven’t touched a single person.”

Taewoong snorted. “Didn’t realize you were queer, Jinwoo. You always had fun with those whores we found-”

“Get out!” Jinwoo shouted. He noticed Myungjun wince beside him, but for the moment, he needed to focus on removing Taewoong from the area before  _ more _ damage was caused. “Chist, Taewoong, haven’t you fucked my life up enough? Yes, I’m dating Myungjun, and I  _ love _ Myungjun, and I lied, but - just get out, okay? Just leave.”

Youngsoo was the one to finally tug Taewoong away, muttering, “Let’s just leave this shop alone, like I told you, okay? We’ll try getting money out of the others.” He shot Jinwoo a pitying glance, but then the two men left, and Jinwoo was left alone with his guilt, and with Myungjun.

Myungjun couldn’t stop from staring. He looked shocked and upset, and Jinwoo knew nothing he could say could ever make things better.

“I want to explain,” he whispered. “Will you let me explain, Myungjun?”

“I…” Myungjun chewed on the inside of his cheek. “I don’t think I even know you anymore.”

“Please,” Jinwoo begged. “I’m still your Jinnie-”

“You’re not,” Myungjun snapped, cutting him off. “You’re a liar. You lied to me about  _ everything _ .”

Jinwoo shook his head. “Not about loving you. I never once lied about how much I love you, Sunshine-”

“Don’t call me that!” Myungjun looked ready to cry. Jinwoo was  _ sure _ he was ready to cry. “I...I don’t want you calling me that! You just - You’ve lied to me? About being a-a photographer, and about-about your entire life? You didn’t think any of this-” He gestured up and down Jinwoo’s body, referring to the tattoos and the drugs and the affiliation with a gang. “-was important enough to talk about?”

“If I had told you, we never would have dated, would we?”

“Of course not!” Myungjun snapped. “You stood outside while my window got smashed and while I got threatened, didn’t you?”

“Myungjun-”

“ _ Didn’t you? _ ”

Myungjun was furious. Jinwoo couldn’t remember ever seeing him so angry and upset, and he realized  _ he _ caused this. He was the reason why Myungjun was nearly shaking with rage. He was the reason behind that glint in Myungjun’s eyes. He was the reason why Myungjun felt so betrayed and used. Jinwoo took a deep breath and finally nodded his head. “I wanted to come and help you,” he said. “I really did. But I-I feel like they would target you even more if they knew we were dating. They’d force me to demand things from you-”

“Bullshit,” Myungjun hissed. “You were just a coward, weren’t you? You were scared of being caught dating  _ me _ . I’m not one of your whores, am I?”

“Myungjun-”

“I saw your tattoo. Is-is that what you wanted me to do? You wanted me to suck your dick? Would you toss me aside like the  _ whores _ you slept with? Were you just trying to get a kick out of dating a  _ boy? _ ”

“Myungjun!” Jinwoo snapped. Myungjun winced, and Jinwoo felt pain hit his heart. He pushed it aside, however, trying to focus on his words. “Did I ever once try to force you into a position where you felt uncomfortable? And did I ever  _ once _ seem like I was just using you? I-I might have lied about who I was, but I was genuine in everything else, I swear. I never meant to hurt you.”

Myungjun clenched his hands into fists. “You seem really good at lying,” he accused. “How do I know you aren’t lying about anything else?”

“I would never lie about how much I love you!” Jinwoo noticed a new look in Myungjun’s eyes, something soft and longing, something full of regret. “You were the only one who saw who I truly was. I  _ hate _ being part of a gang. It was something I had to do, though. I got myself in a bad situation, and this was my only way to make amends. My mom is dead and I had no one else, and this gang was the only way I could ensure I stayed clothed and fed. I’ve done things I’m not proud of, and I’ve lied to you about it all, but I was ashamed of who I am. I was ashamed of-of the things I’ve done, and so with you...with you, I could be myself, and I could make a life I’ve always wanted!”

He thought, for a brief second, perhaps his words had struck a chord with Myungjun. The boy seemed to relax slightly, shoulders less tense and fingers uncurling from his palm. The gaze in his eyes wasn’t nearly as hardened, either, and he swallowed thickly as he thought over all that Jinwoo told him.

Myungjun scanned Jinwoo’s face. His eyes were still so beautiful, and Jinwoo could easily get lost in them. He wanted to. He wanted to get lost in Myungjun’s gaze, to kiss him and love him and pretend things were fine and normal.

But then Myungjun took a step back and shook his head. “I don’t want to date you anymore,” he choked out. “I  _ can’t _ date you anymore. I-I don’t...I don’t trust you. I don’t want to love you. I don’t want to  _ see _ you.”

“Myungjun, please-”

“I want you to get out and never come back here again,” Myungjun whispered, his voice cracking. “I want you to stay away from me for the rest of our lives, okay?”

The request was punishment that Jinwoo deserved, but it hurt him more than anything else ever had. He would rather take any cuts and scars, any bruising or bleeding, over Myungjun’s refusal to continue their relationship.

However, he had to respect it. He was the one who lied; Myungjun was the one who was played.

So he nodded his head, but before he departed, he murmured, “I won’t see you, Sunshine, but...but I won’t stop loving you.”

And he saw, as he turned away from Myungjun for the last time, those tears finally roll down his boyfriend’s cheek.

It pained him that the last noise he would ever hear from Myungjun was his cries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and so i bring you more angst. accept my humble offerings.
> 
> please follow me on my [tumblr](http://www.vonseal.tumblr.com) or on my [twitter](https://twitter.com/nightmjare) (i comment more regularly on twitter now oops)! i'll give spoilers and updates and whatnot on either platform! i also post my update schedule onto twitter, so if you're curious when this fic will release chapter sixteen, check there!


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **chapter warning:** language, more homophobic language (and, in turn, slightly extreme homophobia), sexual implications/mentions, recreational drug use

Jinwoo numbly stared at the television in front of him. He knew it was playing some romantic drama, something super cheesy and dumb, but he couldn’t, for the life of him, figure out the plot. He couldn’t remember anything that had happened in the previous ten minutes, anyway. His mind was elsewhere, occupied solely with a very repetitive scene, of Myungjun telling him to leave, of Myungjun rejecting any sort of continuation of their relationship.

He hated the show that played in his head, and so he took a quick puff on his joint, trying - and failing - to think about anything other than the heartbroken look in Myungjun’s eyes.

He knew, at least, Myungjun still loved him. Myungjun had been sincere and genuine all the while. As Jinwoo lied and tricked him, Myungjun had stayed true and firm, refusing to stray from his love. That knowledge hurt Jinwoo even more; knowing his sweet, caring boyfriend was in pain over his betrayal was dreadful, and Jinwoo sighed loudly, leaning back onto the stained couch he sat on and staring up through the haze at the ceiling.

Youngsoo, sitting beside him, sat back as well. “Sorry,” Youngsoo mumbled. He had been apologizing since the day he figured things out. At least  _ he _ was apologetic, as opposed to Taewoong, who simply requested money in exchange for his silence. “It was shitty of us to do that, you know. I didn’t...I didn’t really know how much you cared for him.” 

Jinwoo didn’t respond. He grunted, but otherwise refused to say anything in reply to Youngsoo.

“How, um, how did you meet him? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Jinwoo smoked more, then said, “On the bus. He gave me gloves because I looked cold.” Jinwoo still had those gloves stashed away in his apartment. He cherished them greatly. He pulled them out often and held them close. He slept with the Pikachu plushie, too, and he was certain that stupid stuffed animal was the only witness to how often Jinwoo cried himself to sleep every night.

“He seemed nice,” Youngsoo said.

Jinwoo snorted, but Youngsoo persisted, “No really. We walked in on the two of you - he was...he was squishing your cheeks. He really seemed to like you.”

“Yeah, then you and Taewoong fucking ruined everything.”

Youngsoo grimaced. He took a drag once, then retorted, “You were the one who lied to him and expected a serious relationship out of it.”

It was the harsh truth. Jinwoo had been a fool in the way he handled things, in the way he kept secrets. It was going to come out sooner or later; it should’ve been sooner, then, before he really started to progress in their relationship.

“I didn’t even know you were  _ gay _ ,” Youngsoo mumbled, and he gave a small whistle and shook his head. “You think you know a guy - but you’ve had sex with girls before, right?” Jinwoo nodded, so Youngsoo continued, “And you’ve never had sex with a guy before, right?”

“I don’t know.” Jinwoo was exasperated. “One, or-or two, maybe. It’s...I mean, I was drunk when I did. I don’t remember much.”

Youngsoo stared at him with wide eyes, as if he had just uncovered some sort of fantastic secret. “Do gay men  _ really _ take it in the ass?” he questioned, then he shoved Jinwoo lightly. “Do  _ you _ take it in the ass?”

Jinwoo chose not to answer those questions. He wasn’t proud of who he brought home. It was never a point of interest for him to discuss. He was drunk when he made those decisions, and in the morning, he regretted each and every one of them. He didn’t  _ want _ to sleep with anyone; he simply chose to because he felt validated, and for a second during the activities, he could pretend he knew what true love actually was.

“How did you even discover you were gay, anyway?” Youngsoo continued to talk, likely fueled by the drugs in his system. “Like, did you accidentally take a guy home one day and decide to go with it? Or do you just browse around until you find someone you want to pound?”

Jinwoo closed his eyes and puffed on his joint. “I’ve just always found men more attractive than women,” he responded. “I was with women because that’s who I could  _ get _ , and I thought that maybe I could be with one of them if I tried hard enough.”

“And did you try hard enough?”

“I gave up trying that. Why would I try to be something I’m not?” Jinwoo asked, and then he gave a bitter laugh at the irony of it all. “God, like my entire  _ life _ right now. I’m pretending to be this shitty person. I’m pretending to enjoy my time here in this shitty gang - I don’t, you know. I wish I was a photographer and I wish I could stay with Myungjun forever. I didn’t want to revert back to...to  _ this _ .” He gestured around them, at the discarded cigarette butts sitting in the ashtray nearby, at the bag of marijuana Youngsoo still had out, and at their other friend sitting nearby, a shirtless girl grinding on his lap as if lost in her own world and tuning out any other sort of conversation. “This is disgusting,” Jinwoo muttered, and he ducked his head, groaning in frustration. “I’ve never felt so disgusting.”

Youngsoo wrinkled his nose. “Yeah, the show in front of us is a little gross. Daejun, do you mind, maybe, quieting down a little bit?”

Daejun glanced around the girl and grinned at Youngsoo. He was panting, sweat beads forming on his forehead. “I paid for two hours, I’m getting my two hours,” he retorted, and then moaned out as the girl dipped down and unzipped his pants.

“I don’t see how we can ever have any serious conversation with this shit,” Youngsoo grumbled as he turned back to Jinwoo. “Sorry about him. I’d kick him out, but I also told him that you wouldn’t mind. It’s not anything you haven’t seen before. And I’d send him to the bedroom, but that’s  _ my _ bedroom, and I’d rather not have a mess on my sheets, you know?”

Jinwoo wasn’t going to say anything, but through all the noises of pleasure, Daejung suddenly blurted out, “If Taewoong lets out the secret, Jinwoo, you and your boy-toy might be fucked. You’d better -oh, god, right there - sorry, hide the fact that you’re gay.”

The girl on his lap snorted, and her hand movements sped up. Jinwoo was happy he wasn’t in a position to see what she was holding. “I don’t see why you guys are so picky,” she said. “Gay men are hot.”

“Really?” Daejung grinned, then made eye contact with Jinwoo. “Hey, Jinwoo-”

“No.” Jinwoo decided to stick solely to speaking with Youngsoo. “Do you think Taewoong will tell anyone?”

Youngsoo pursed his lips. “I...I don’t know. We paid him off once, but Taewoong is...he’s greedy. And, uh, he’s sort of a wildcard, too. I’ve never really figured him out. It’s possible he might be satisfied, and he might not see the point, but...he also could demand more money. We might have to keep paying him off - I guess we could become a fucking business. We’d pay him for your protection.”

Jinwoo sighed. Things had gotten complicated. Not only was his relationship in shambles, but now Taewoong could prove to become a hassle to deal with. “I don’t need you to pay anything,” Jinwoo said. “You’ve already done enough to help.” Even if Youngsoo had assisted in causing damage to Jinwoo’s life, he  _ was _ trying to make up for it. He had treated Jinwoo kindly right after, allowing him to stick around for a while and ensuring Taewoong truly did keep silent about the entire situation. Jinwoo didn’t know if he liked Youngsoo or hated him anymore.

Youngsoo shook his head. “I’d rather help more,” he claimed. “I mean, I was part of the reason you’re even in this situation right now. I didn’t mean to out you, honest.” He finished smoking his joint, and once it was out, he set it down and began to roll another one. “Want one?” he asked, pointedly glancing at Jinwoo’s own dwindling joint.

Jinwoo declined, and instead watched as Youngsoo got everything prepared. It was so natural to him, so common, but with Myungjun, now it seemed like a different world. It was a world Jinwoo no longer wanted to be a part of. He hated everything about it; even if it meant leaving Youngsoo behind, he would gladly do it in a heartbeat.

“I don’t care if Taewoong tells on me,” Jinwoo said. Youngsoo glanced up at him in surprise, and Jinwoo continued, “I truly don’t care if people beat me up and kick me out of the gang. I’ll do it. I’ll live on the streets if I have to, and I’ll go back to Myungjun and...I’d happily leave in an instant.”

Youngsoo hummed. “Well,” he mumbled, “they won’t force you to leave. Not with the hefty debt you still have to the gang leaders.” 

Jinwoo hated feeling stuck. He  _ was _ stuck, in this god-awful place, unable to find a way out because of his own young stupidity. “And now, if Taewoong wants more, my debt will just increase,” he fussed. “God, what the hell did I do in my previous life to deserve this shit?”

“This kid you liked...Myungjun, was his name?” Youngsoo asked. Jinwoo nodded his head, looking over at Youngsoo, who continued, “So you two...you two were  _ serious _ , right? Like...like you truly loved him, and he truly loved you?”

“Yeah.”

“And he wasn’t just a fuck-buddy, was he?”

Jinwoo ran his fingers through his hair. “Why on earth would he be  _ just _ that? You saw him, anyway - he had never seen me without a shirt on.”

“I mean, there’s other ways to...look, Daejun still has his shirt on. Did Myungjun suck you like that?”

Jinwoo didn’t want to look. He chose not to. “We didn’t do  _ anything _ like that,” he snapped. “Our love was...it was pure and real and gentle. I’d never met anyone so...sincere? And innocent? And sweet? God, I don’t even know how to explain it. We took things slow. The  _ I love you _ ’s didn’t come until...a couple of weeks, I guess. It took a while. I knew I loved him long before I ever said those words, but...I liked taking it slow. It was a...a good, healthy relationship.”

“Minus you lying to him constantly,” Youngsoo pointed out. Jinwoo glared at him, and his friend just smiled. “Again, I’m pointing out the obvious, but if you were truthful with him to start with, neither of you would be hurt that much.”

“I don’t want to focus on what I  _ could _ have done differently,” Jinwoo complained, but it was all a lie. He often let his mind rest on the  _ what could’ve been _ ’s. He often thought, if he had come clean at the beginning, when they first met, would things turn out differently? Perhaps they would go off their own separate ways. Jinwoo knew, though, he would’ve been filled with regret for not trying. Or, perhaps, they would’ve attempted a relationship regardless. With the knowledge of who he was, Myungjun could be less scared to be targeted by Jinwoo’s gang - or, else, more scared, as he could easily become a target himself.

Either way, Jinwoo didn’t think any of the other situations could have ever amounted to being called  _ Jinnie _ , to being loved unconditionally, to being treated as if he was a good person all along.

Lying had done that for him - and now lying had put him in a terrible place in life, and it hurt the one person he had grown to love and care for.

“Well,” Youngsoo said, smoking again, “if the relationship had been okay, if it had survived the truth, you do know it wouldn’t be good for Myungjun. He would have to get used to  _ this _ \- this sort of lifestyle that you lead. You can’t leave, for money issues, and so he would have to know everything we do.”

Jinwoo looked over the small apartment living room. There were stains on the furniture pieces and the carpet and the walls and ceiling. Cheap beer cans sat up on the kitchen table. Cigarettes filled the ashtray, and smoke from drugs hovered above all of them like some sort of reminder of what they were doing. Daejung was being pleasured and the noises coming from his corner of the room were obscene and disturbing.

Still, Jinwoo was used to all of it.

He imagined Myungjun in a place like this. He imagined the discomfort, the horror, the ridicule the boy would face.

It was better this way. Even if it brought the both of them such pain, perhaps it was all better that it ended.

But Jinwoo loved Myungjun. All he wanted was Myungjun. He couldn’t believe they would no longer text, no longer call, no longer even see each other.

“You know,” Youngsoo started again. “If...if you need someone to supplement you, um...there are a few gay bars I had to do business with from time to time.”

Jinwoo felt sick to his stomach. He set his joint down in front of Youngsoo and stood from his seat. Smoking on an empty stomach was a bad idea. Drinking on an empty stomach was a bad idea.  _ Being here _ and not with Myungjun was the worst idea of them all. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “I  _ loved _ Myungjun, and I won’t love anyone else other than Myungjun. Not ever.” He grabbed his jacket and stuffed it on, still shaking his head. “I have to-to go,” he stammered out. “I can’t be here. I’m...I’m going back to my place. Sorry, Youngsoo.” 

Youngsoo called after him, but Jinwoo didn’t stop. He didn’t say goodbye to Daejung, either, who clearly wasn’t even paying attention. He didn’t want to see either of his two friends, and so he hurried away, down the path and out of sight of the deteriorating apartment buildings.

He knew, if he took the familiar path, he would come across  _ The Star _ . He wanted to do that. He wanted to know if the window had been fixed, and if it looked nice again. He wanted to see Sanha and Minhyuk arguing with each other playfully. He wanted to see Myungjun’s parents smiling graciously at the customers.

He wanted to see  _ Myungjun _ .

But he refused to do it. He couldn’t bring himself pain, and he couldn’t let Myungjun know he was walking by just to catch a glimpse of the familiarity he had discovered with him. So instead, he took the long way around, cutting into back alleys of different shops in an effort to completely avoid anything having to do with  _ The Star _ .

He didn’t know where he was going. He knew he wasn’t going home. He couldn’t go home and face his demons that still lay there. He didn’t want to see the cute plushie Myungjun got him, nor did he want to see the ugly gloves Myungjun gave him.

Instead, his feet led him straight to the nearby park, where he had met Myungjun that one night he couldn’t sleep, where they sat on the swings briefly before heading right back to the ramen shop.

Jinwoo slowed, staring over the still playground and grinding his teeth together.

He wished Myungjun was here with him. He wanted them to both be together forever. Back then, when they were at the park, Jinwoo  _ felt _ as if he could never be parted from Myungjun. He felt ecstatic and happy and those feelings couldn’t be easily erased, he had assumed.

Now, though, things were different. Now, he just felt ill inside as he thought of what could have been between them, and what actually ended up happening.

He sat down on one of the swings. The chains above him jingled lightly, and his breath caught in his throat as a chilly breeze passed over him. He wished he had the gloves Myungjun gave him. He wished he could wear those to block out the intense cold of the winter night.

At least the cold was making him suffer and shiver. It was an extra punishment he would give to himself, for being so stupid and selfish in the first place, for hurting the most wonderful man to ever walk the face of earth.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered out to the night sky, staring up at the stars above him. He wondered why the sun went away at night. He wondered why he couldn’t bask in the beauty of Sunshine forever. “I’m so sorry, Myungjun.”

No one answered him, but Jinwoo didn’t expect anyone to. The Sunshine had left his life, and it was unlikely to ever return. He was faced forever with darkness.

He kicked his legs slightly, and his swing moved. He kicked his legs more, and he was taken up into the air by his swing, like a child enjoying a recess during school.

It would be better if Myungjun were beside him.

When he was cold enough, when he couldn’t stop shaking, he ceased his efforts to swing, and he instead curled in on himself, hugging his own body as tightly as possible in order to find warmth and comfort. 

And then he cried.

He cried loudly, big, fat tears rolling down his cheeks as he sobbed and shook. He wanted Myungjun so bad, more than he ever wanted anything before, and he had screwed up the only good thing in his terrible life.

He could still imagine Myungjun squishing his cheeks together, or kissing him lightly, or staring upon him with all the happiness in the world.

It was gone. It was gone forever, replaced by a black void that Jinwoo wouldn’t ever escape from.

Because of his loss, because of his fears coming true, Jinwoo could do nothing now but hang his head and cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the angst continues, when will it end ;A;
> 
> please follow me on my [tumblr](http://www.vonseal.tumblr.com) or on my [twitter](https://twitter.com/nightmjare) (i comment more regularly on twitter now oops)! i'll give spoilers and updates and whatnot on either platform! i also post my update schedule onto twitter, so if you're curious when this fic will release chapter seventeen, check there!


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **chapter warning:** language, homophobic language (so slight homophobia), mentions of drug use and sex

Jinwoo had fallen quickly into a pathetic and miserable state of being. He couldn’t remember the last time he had truly taken care of himself, truly looked out for himself. His lifestyle now consisted of self-punishment, ensuring he paid for his crimes in lying to Myungjun for their entire relationship. He didn’t mind spiralling deeper and deeper into this new way of living, because it hurt him greatly, and he deserved to hurt for all he had put Myungjun through.

He immersed himself in gang activity. He took on more jobs as some sort of sick mediator between drug deals in shady strip clubs or in the backs of run-down bars. He waited for trouble,  _ begged _ for trouble, because trouble meant he might get hurt - punched, perhaps, or else beaten down. There were so many different forms of punishment he could inflict upon himself within these drug deals, and Jinwoo gladly accepted them all.

He stayed with Youngsoo now, more often than not. He didn’t like going home any longer. Home reminded him of how badly he failed in life. The picture of his mother stared at him still from his bedside table, and Myungjun’s gifts were stashed away now but still managed to mock Jinwoo relentlessly. He couldn’t be around any of it, and so he simply slept on Youngsoo’s disgusting couch, drinking and smoking his days away.

Youngsoo thought it was deplorable behavior. “It was just a  _ guy _ ,” he said, when Jinwoo came home again with a black eye. “You’re getting yourself in these awful situations because you lied to some kid.”

Youngsoo, though, didn’t understand. Jinwoo refused to explain things to him, to truly display his emotions. There was no need to; nothing would change what had already happened. Instead, he remained silent as Youngsoo gave him medicine for his sore face and food for some sort of midnight supper.

Things finally made him snap one day, though. His feelings finally took over one day, as he watched two boys down the street grab each others’ hands. One smiled shyly and the other grinned proudly.

It was cute.

Jinwoo hated them.

He didn’t want these random kids to steal away his happiness. That joy belonged to him; after everything he had been through, didn’t he deserve to look over at  _ his _ boyfriend like that? After all the love he had shown, was it fair for him to be tossed aside as if he were nothing?

Jinwoo felt himself choking up. It was hard to breathe when all he wanted to do was scream, and as if on habit, his feet led him quickly down the sidewalk. He stumbled over cracks in the pavement and pushed past people with no apology before he finally arrived to where his heart truly longed to be.

_ The Star _ .

He stayed far enough away so that no one inside could see him. He loitered near another business, eyes trained on the new window that had been installed, and he squinted into the restaurant.

He could make out Sanha, tall and lanky, serving some guests. The boy seemed cheerful, just as sweet and dorky as he always was, and Jinwoo felt a longing in his heart.

Nearby was their father, running the register and counting money. He seemed in good spirits, too, and he called back to the kitchen to someone.

Myungjun poked his head out.

He looked far better than Jinwoo expected. He clearly wasn’t going through the same self-inflicted harm that Jinwoo had fallen under. He was clean and calm and serene. He smiled fondly at his father before double-checking something for him. They both laughed, and Myungjun gave his father a quick hug before rushing back into the kitchen, likely to complete some more orders.

It was all normal. Things were operating just fine without Jinwoo.

He felt numb as he began the walk back to Youngsoo’s place. Had he always been so replaceable, so forgettable? Did Myungjun now find nothing but disdain and hatred towards him? Jinwoo always thought they had a relationship fated by the stars above. He always assumed their love for each other was stronger than any other love in the history of mankind.

Suddenly, he was faced with the possibility that Myungjun had moved on, while Jinwoo still wallowed in pity and anguish.

_ How _ , though? How was Myungjun able to move on so fast? Why did he look cheerful? Why wasn’t he depressed?

Jinwoo thought back to the goodies Myungjun gifted to him, and wondered if Myungjun kept anything  _ Jinwoo _ gifted him. He wondered if Myungjun pushed it aside to forget about things, or if he kept it as some sort of reminder of how he should never put his trust in someone again.

Either option was painful, and Jinwoo opened the door quickly to Youngsoo’s home and instantly blurted out, “Let’s go to a bar tonight, Youngsoo.”

Youngsoo, flipping through some channels on his couch, glanced up at Jinwoo. “A bar?” he questioned.

Jinwoo flopped down beside him and gazed up at the stained ceiling. “A gay bar,” he clarified.

“Ugh. I don’t swing that way, Jinwoo, and I don’t want to see men grinding on each other.”

“I do swing that way, and I’ve gone to enough of  _ your _ bars recently to have you owe me this one.” Jinwoo glanced over at Youngsoo, who wrinkled his nose in distaste. “Remember, you caused this shit, anyway. Might as well help to hook me up with someone else.”

“I didn’t think you’d want to hook up, though. What happened to your love being  _ pure _ and  _ innocent _ . You said that, didn’t you? What’s changed now?”

Jinwoo bit down at his lip, then mumbled, “I think he’s moved on. I should move on, too. I should find someone else, someone acquainted with  _ this _ lifestyle, and just continue on with my own life, shouldn’t I?”

Youngsoo snorted. “You should stop allowing drug deals to go wrong, in any case. Do you know how many times I’ve dyed your hair to hide you? You were out of it for most of them, too drugged up or  _ beaten _ up to stop me.” He raised his eyebrows, then reached out and patted Jinwoo’s hair. “You need a touch up. This green has turned into some ugly puke color.”

“Perfect,” Jinwoo mumbled. He didn’t care if he was undesirable. That wouldn’t matter to much in his quest to hook up with someone. As long as he was drunk, and his future partner was drunk, then they would find solace in each other. 

Even if it only lasted the night, at least Jinwoo would find some reprieve to his miserable existence.

“How about I just...drive you to the bar?” Youngsoo asked, drawing his hand back. “Honestly, Jinwoo, I’d do a lot for you, but going into some fag bar isn’t one of them.”

Jinwoo sighed. He would do it alone, then. He sat up from his seat and asked, “Could I bring a guy back here, at least?”

“Be my guest. As long as I don’t see it, then I guess it’s all fine.”

“Could we use your bed?”

“What the fu-”

Jinwoo shushed him. “Just...look, I’m not going to bring a guy back here and have sex on this tiny couch, okay? And I’ll wash your sheets tomorrow, I swear it. If I’m going to hook up with someone, though, I want a  _ bed _ .”

Youngsoo glared at Jinwoo, then snapped, “I didn’t even let Daejun do that, and he at least had a hot chick.”

“Please?”

It took a few more seconds for Youngsoo to angrily sigh and throw his head back. “Fine!” he exclaimed. “Just because you’re a young, sweet kid, and you’re  _ not _ an ugly jackass like Daejun. Use the bed, but you’d  _ better _ wash my sheets later on.”

Jinwoo couldn’t sing Youngsoo’s praises enough, and after waiting a few hours for dark, he eagerly made his way to the bar. It was a nicer bar in a nicer neighborhood - while Youngsoo recommended a few where Jinwoo could surely find someone drunk enough to take home, he wanted someone  _ clean _ , someone a little classy. They would be trashed, but in the morning, he wanted someone who might at least stay by his side.

The bar was already getting crowded, but Jinwoo managed to find and secure himself a seat. He quickly asked for a drink, and as he gulped down the alcohol, he decided he would spend all he had on him tonight. He would get as drunk as possible - maybe the other guy wouldn’t be as wasted. Maybe, even, they could go to the other guy’s house, and he wouldn’t run away after seeing Jinwoo’s position in life.

Jinwoo kept an eye out on the patrons entering the building, and he perked his head up with interest when he spotted one man.

The man was tall with sturdy shoulders and a gangly type of build. He looked a little nervous and unsure - perhaps it was his first time in a gay bar. Regardless, he seemed to know where he was going, and when he took a seat down at a table, Jinwoo felt desire stir within him.

And then he felt instant disgust and regret. The man was handsome, definitely, but he was no competition to Myungjun. He was something sweet for the eyes, but he wasn’t a force of Sunshine. He was bland, really, the longer Jinwoo looked at him; his soft features would only take him so far. He was probably a bore, and Jinwoo scoffed when the man refused a drink from someone else.

He would do for the night, at least. He was pleasing to look at, and Jinwoo could already imagine making out with him in a dark room.

It would have to work.

He stood from the bar, and realized he was already getting more tipsy than he assumed. He was shaky on his feet, and it took him a few steps to right himself properly and make his way over to the bland man.

“Hey,” he greeted, instantly sitting down beside him.

The man, who had been staring down at his phone, looked up at him then blinked. “Um...I’m, uh, just waiting for someone.”

Jinwoo scoffed. What a dumb pick-up line. He could do better. “No need to wait any longer,” he teased. “I’ve arrived.”

The man raised his eyebrows. “Who are you?” he asked.

Jinwoo shrugged his shoulders then leaned in close, admiring the man’s gorgeous facial features.

He was still so boring, though, for some odd reason. Jinwoo found him to be textbook attractive; nothing more, nothing less.

He wasn’t Myungjun.

Jinwoo’s heart hurt just thinking of his ex-boyfriend, and he tried to push all memories aside to focus on the then and now. He wanted this man in his bed. He was completely different from Myungjun, physically and probably mentally, too, and Jinwoo needed someone different to get his mind off Myungjun.

“I don’t think we should be so hasty to know each others’ names,” Jinwoo said with a small smirk on his face. He noticed a bartender walking by, and he gestured for them and requested a drink for the both of them. “I’ll figure it out later tonight,” he added as the bartender walked off. “And I’ll scream it, nice and loud, for you to hear.”

The man looked flushed. Unfortunately, it reminded Jinwoo too much of Myungjun. Myungjun would always blush when the talk got a little raunchy, or even when Jinwoo made some silly joke or suggestion. Now, suddenly, this stupid, boring man was reminding Jinwoo too much of his ex-boyfriend. He needed someone easy and capable of handling talk of sex. Someone different than Myungjun.

“Don’t be a prude,” Jinwoo chastised, deciding to try his luck anyway. “Deep down inside, I think you can find some kinks that might be worth awakening. We can try it, at least, for one night - just one night. If you decide you like it, then you’re welcome to stick around.”

Their drinks came. Jinwoo wasted no time in downing his as fast as possible. If he wanted to have sex with someone so boring, he’d best be completely drunk for the experience.

The man before him, however, didn’t touch his glass. He simply cleared his throat and repeated himself, a little bit louder. “I’m just here waiting for someone, okay?”

“Who?”

“My boyfriend,” the man snapped. “And our mutual friend.”

Jinwoo rolled his eyes. “Boyfriend,” he scoffed. “I’ve heard excuses like that at bars before. You don’t have a boyfriend, do you? You’re just not interested.” He needed this, though. He needed the opposite of Myungjun, and so he reached over and placed a hand on the man’s upper thigh with a small wink. “I can change that.”

The man tensed up and removed Jinwoo’s hand. “Seriously,” he fussed, “I’m waiting on - oh, good, there he is.” The man stood up and gestured to his table, calling out, “Binnie! Over here!”

Jinwoo could see another attractive man hurrying to his table. “Dongmin!” the man - Binnie? - greeted. “Hey, he’s right behind me - oh, who’s this, Dongmin?”

Dongmin - Jinwoo assumed that was the name of the man - sighed and muttered, “Some drunk whore, I think.”

Jinwoo would have taken offense to being called such a thing, but before he could say a single word, he recognized the man trailing behind Binnie.

It was Myungjun.

Myungjun stared at him with sudden horror and recognition in his gaze, but neither of his two friends seemed to notice. Jinwoo could hear Binnie asking, “Were you seriously trying to sleep with my boyfriend? You don’t know who you’re messing with, I’ll fuck you  _ up _ if you touch him -” and he heard Dongmin trying to calm him down, but he paid attention to nothing except the Sunshine right in front of him.

“Myungjun,” he breathed out.

Myungjun grabbed Binnie’s sleeve and tugged. “I don’t want to be here,” he said, voice shaking. “Can we leave? Please?”

Binnie gently removed Myungjun’s hand. “Usually, people aren’t  _ this _ trashy,” he assured Myungjun as he pointed at Jinwoo. “I can get security to kick him out, though, if-”

“He’s not trashy!” Myungjun was still defending him, even now, even after they had broken up so terribly, even after they had been away for so long, even after Jinwoo had made himself as trashy as possible. “He’s...he’s just…” Myungjun couldn’t seem to think of any way to explain why he was so averse to being somewhere with Jinwoo nearby. Instead, he just looked helplessly at Dongmin, who gave a deep breath.

“Binnie, come on.”

“What? Why? This is a great place to meet guys-”

“I don’t want to be near Jinwoo!” Myungjun exclaimed, and he slammed his hand down on the table, right near Jinwoo. Jinwoo jumped but never once took his eyes off Myungjun. “I came here to get  _ away _ , and he’s- h-he’s…” Myungjun’s chin was quivering. It was clear that he was about to cry, and Jinwoo, in all his drunken stupor, stood up hurriedly to remedy the situation.

It was too late, though. Myungjun turned and fled, and Jinwoo  _ knew _ the boy had broken down.

Perhaps he wasn’t as happy with the situation as Jinwoo had assumed. He might just hide his emotions better than Jinwoo ever could.

“Myungjun!” Jinwoo cried out. He tried to step forward, but the world was spinning and he nearly fell, if not for the sudden support of Dongmin’s arms.

“Christ, Bin, he’s Myungjun’s  _ ex _ !” Dongmin exclaimed. “What-what the hell are we supposed to do now?”

Bin looked conflicted - or, at least, Jinwoo assumed he did. “Just...call him a cab, or something, don’t leave him to go home alone. He’s wasted. I’m going to go after Myungjun.” Bin shot Jinwoo a nasty glare, then muttered, “This bastard apparently isn’t through hurting him.” 

Jinwoo felt pain in his heart. He accepted it. It was punishment. He deserved it.

“Dongmin, just meet me back home, okay? I’ll calm Myungjun down. Make sure the piece of trash in your hands doesn’t die.”

Bin left quickly, giving a quick kiss to Dongmin’s cheek before hurrying back out the exit, going off to find Myungjun.

Jinwoo, as useless as he was, could do nothing but stand there stupidly.

He felt Dongmin trying to hoist him up into a better position. Jinwoo felt his body go limp, and Dongmin finally had to drag him outside and sit him down on a bench nearby. “Do you need some water?” Dongmin asked. “I really don’t want to stay out here with you longer than necessary-”

“I screwed it all up,” Jinwoo breathed out, not listening to what Dongmin had to say to him. “I...I ruined Myungjun. Oh, god.” He buried his face into his hands and felt the glistening of tears right underneath his eyelids. It was pitiful and pathetic, but so was Jinwoo’s entire life. “I hurt him! I betrayed him! I  _ lied _ to him - and I loved him. I love him, I love him, I love him, even now, and I’d rather die than ever-ever hurt him again.” He was sobbing at this point, shoulders shaking as he poured forth his emotions to this random stranger, to Myungjun’s close friend, to a man who would clearly only stay on Myungjun’s side. “I didn’t mean to,” he swore to Dongmin. “I-I-I just wanted to love him, an-and I loved him too much to let go.”

Dongmin was quiet for a second before he gave a loud sigh. “Love sometimes  _ means _ letting go,” he pointed out. “Look, I...I don’t know what you did. I think you cheated-”

“I’d never cheat!”

“I mean, you wanted to sleep with me,” Dongmin pointed out, and before Jinwoo could refute that statement, he continued, “If being with Myungjun hurts him or ruins him, then...it’s best if you stay away.”

Dongmin’s words were true. They stung and hurt and stabbed Jinwoo in the stomach, but he accepted them, because they were true.

He didn't deserve Myungjun. And Myungjun didn’t deserve a life of ruin that being with Jinwoo would bring forth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jinwoo wallows on but when are we getting more fluff? ARE we getting more fluff? only time will tell.
> 
> please follow me on my [tumblr](http://www.vonseal.tumblr.com) or on my [twitter](https://twitter.com/nightmjare) (i comment more regularly on twitter now oops)! i'll give spoilers and updates and whatnot on either platform! i also post my update schedule onto twitter, so if you're curious when this fic will release chapter eighteen, check there!


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **chapter warning:** language, homophobic language and homophobia, mentions of drug use and sex

**You told me once, dear, you really loved me**   
  
**And no one else could come between**   
  
**But now you've left me and love another**   
  
**You have shattered all of my dreams**

 

Constant visits to _The Star_ were now a daily part of Jinwoo’s routine.

He never went inside. He never made himself known, either. He preferred to remain undetected, lingering around a few shops down. He would watch from his position as people entered and exited, smiling and laughing, cheeks rosy and warm, bodies bundled up to go against the cold. Jinwoo stuck out like a sore thumb, dressed only in a sweater and light jacket, his color-faded hair sticking up every which way, a cigarette usually held tightly within his fingers.

Sometimes, he would stand around for hours, loitering and smoking, trying to convince himself to go talk to Myungjun, but always failing miserably at the task.

How could he talk to Myungjun now? How could he face the Sunshine when he left a black mark on their relationship? They would never be together, not after how Jinwoo had lied to him and strung him along. They were doomed to remain like this, Myungjun working hard to achieve his goals in life, and Jinwoo smoking and hanging around, watching with depression as Myungjun continued onward.

He knew now, at least, Myungjun was upset since their breakup. Dongmin had made that clear to him; hell, Myungjun’s expression had made it all clear to him. Originally, he had expected to find some sort of satisfaction deep within him upon figuring out how much Myungjun was hurting. Instead, all he felt was guilt.

He _hurt_ Myungjun. He hurt the man he cared for more than life itself. He had promised himself to protect Myungjun from all harm, and yet he went ahead and lay down the most grievous harm of all - betrayal. Complete and utter betrayal of his trust and respect and love.

He pretended to be someone he wasn’t, in hopes Myungjun might fall deeper in love with him. He pretended to be someone worthy of Myungjun’s trust and respect and love.

The opposite of that was true, however. Jinwoo was just scum. He was lower than dirt, really, and he lived his life in a way that was worthy of absolutely nothing.

Especially not of Myungjun.

His phone vibrated. Jinwoo lazily pulled it out of his pants pocket and stared at it for a few seconds. It was Youngsoo, for the third time, making sure he was fine, making sure he hadn’t done anything stupid yet.

Jinwoo refused to answer him. He was sure they would see each other that evening, as Jinwoo crashed on his couch once more because he could hardly stand being at his own home. There was no need for them to talk to each other outside of their living situation; Youngsoo knew this, too. He knew Jinwoo didn’t want comfort.

Jinwoo just wanted punishment.

Before he could put his phone away again, however, Youngsoo was calling, and Jinwoo only answered out of frustration.

“What?” he snapped as he held the phone up to his ear.

Youngsoo sighed, a little too loud, then asked, “Are you hanging out around his ramen shop again?”

Jinwoo glanced over at the sign. It was obvious he was, if his hesitation was anything to go by, but he still lied, regardless. He still turned his back on the sign and cleared his throat before answering, “No.”

“Jinwoo…” Youngsoo sighed again. “Let’s try another bar, okay? I’ll even go with you this time, to some gay bar further from town. He won’t be there, especially not if he’s working. You need to get laid, anyway.”

“It’s still early in the morning,” Jinwoo said. He rolled his eyes, though he knew Youngsoo couldn’t see him. “Myungjun hasn’t even had any customers come in today, _that’s_ how early it is.”

“Obviously I didn’t mean right now. I just meant...look, come back to my house, and we’ll find a bar and dress you up really nice-”

“I want Myungjun. That’s it.”

Jinwoo didn’t think any of his requests were difficult. He had told Youngsoo, over and over again, he could think of no one but Myungjun. He didn’t even want to sleep with one random man for one random night, because all he could think of was how upset Myungjun would be should he do that. After all, didn’t Myungjun still love him, if even just a little bit? They were destined to either be together or remain miserable.

If Myungjun wouldn’t want him back, then Jinwoo would remain miserable for the rest of his life.

“He isn’t going to come back,” Youngsoo snapped, finally beginning to lose his patience. “He won’t come back to someone who lied to him and still expected love and respect.”

Jinwoo had told himself that enough in the past few days. He knew, too, that Youngsoo had been thinking it on his own for the past few days. It was obvious that Myungjun wouldn’t return to him. The man had too much self-respect to return to a relationship where he was betrayed and used. He might miss Jinwoo, certainly, but he had a future ahead of him. He had a life to live. Jinwoo would only serve to act as a distraction, a disturbance in Myungjun’s cozy career and family situation, and so Jinwoo was obsolete now.

It was for the best, and yet-

Yet Jinwoo wanted Myungjun to take him back. He didn’t even care if Myungjun’s morals and ethics would be shoved aside, or if the relationship might not be the healthiest - he wanted Myungjun to give up everything to stay by his side.

“I don’t want to talk about this,” Jinwoo responded to Youngsoo. “Please-”

“You never want to talk about it. You just smoke all day and stand around that stupid ramen shop. You come home and get high or-or wasted, then you sleep and the process is repeated the next morning. Do you think that’s _good_ , Jinwoo? Do you think that maybe I’m sick and tired of covering for your ass whenever the rest of the guys ask where you are or what’s wrong with you?”

Jinwoo glanced over at his other hand, still holding onto his cigarette, and he put it out against the side of the building and let it drop from his fingers. “Tell them,” he threatened.

“What?”

“Tell the rest of the guys I’m a little bitch, a faggot, some crybaby who only wants Myungjun - tell them all. I don’t care.”

Likely, they would make his life a living hell should they find out he was gay. Jinwoo was fine with that. It might bring something to his life other than a reminder of his horrible breakup. If they hurt him, he could take it.

Nothing would pain him as much as Myungjun’s rejection.

Youngsoo scoffed, “I’m not telling _anyone_ , Jinwoo. You might not care about yourself, but I do. And I’m just - I think you need to learn to relax and calm down-”

Youngsoo continued to talk, and as he did, Jinwoo watched someone enter the noodle shop. Even from his distance, he thought he could recognize the person; tall with piercings and a tattoo.

He blinked, then asked, “What’s Taewoong doing today?”

Caught mid-sentence on a rant, Youngsoo took a few seconds to reply. “I...don’t know. I don’t normally keep up with him. We only talk if we have to work together for something or other - why do you ask?”

It had to be Taewoong. No one else was that noticeable, and Jinwoo’s heart raced with worry and anticipation. Why the hell would Taewoong be entering into Myungjun’s noodle shop? He had already gotten what he needed out of his initial visit; he had ridiculed Jinwoo and ruined their relationship. He got money, too, keeping silent for Jinwoo and Youngsoo about the whole ordeal.

So then what was he doing?

“I have to go,” Jinwoo said to Youngsoo, and even in that short time period, Jinwoo could already hear some sort of commotion coming from _The Star_ . “Taewoong is fucking - he’s messing with Myungjun, I _have_ to go.”

He hung up his phone and stuck it back in his pocket as he jogged the short distance down the street. This was the closest he had been to _The Star_ since his ordeal with Myungjun. This was the first time he was willingly going closer, going near Myungjun, and he felt a pounding in his heart with excitement.

It was offset with anger, however, when he saw, through the new, large window of the shop, Taewoong threatening Myungjun with a knife.

Myungjun didn’t take his eyes off the weapon, not once, but he was still standing his ground, still steadfast and determined. He shook his head, and Taewoong stepped closer, grabbing him by the wrist roughly.

That was when Jinwoo had to intervene. He quickly entered the shop, narrowing his eyes as Taewoong turned to glance at him.

Myungjun looked shocked; Taewoong just seemed amused.

“Thought you might come, Jinwoo,” Taewoong teased him. He didn’t release Myungjun from his grasp; Myungjun made no move to escape, though, frozen with surprise from Jinwoo’s sudden appearance. “You’ve been hanging out here enough, haven’t you? All you do with your life is sadly stare into this shop, right?”

Jinwoo grit his teeth down. “Just let him go,” he demanded. “What the fuck is your issue?”

Taewoong raised his eyebrows. “You talk a lot of shit for someone who’s just wasting away. I know Youngsoo’s the one who’s been paying me off. No one has seen you in over a week. We finally got it out of Daejun that all you do is cry over at Youngsoo’s place - he’s taking care of you, and you’re mooching off of him, right?”

Jinwoo could say nothing to refute the matter. It was true, after all; he hadn’t done a single thing to raise himself up from his rut, and he had allowed Youngsoo to pay off Taewoong in exchange for his silence.

“What’s your point?” he asked. “You get money, either way, so just let him go-”

“I only get money from one person. How about...you start paying me extra.” Taewoong tightened his grip on Myungjun; Jinwoo could see Myungjun wince from the pressure. “Some of the money can be used to pay for my silence on this relationship, and the rest of it, I guess, can ensure I don’t harm Myungjun at all.”

“You’re fucking insane,” Jinwoo growled. “You know Myungjun’s done nothing wrong, so just let him go-”

Taewoong snorted and pulled Myungjun close to him. Finally, Myungjun started struggling to get away, attempting to reach out to Jinwoo, but Taewoong stopped him with one little flick of his knife. Myungjun stilled, biting harshly down on his lip as he stared again at the weapon.

“Your boyfriend’s shop is the only one on this street that is not required to pay a protection fee,” he pointed out. “Do you think that’s fair? Why should we allow him to go away free of charge, when all the others have to pay? Just because he’s your gay, little fuck toy?”

Jinwoo hated people referring to Myungjun as nothing but a _toy_ , or as a _buddy_. He had loved Myungjun, fully - he still loved Myungjun, unconditionally. It was a love he had never felt before, and to hear people belittle his emotions and feelings was awful enough.

To hear Taewoong belittle it all was worse.

He stepped forward again, grabbing the arm that held Myungjun, and he repeated himself, “Let Myungjun go.”

“Or what?” Taewoong asked. He gripped his nails in tighter to Myungjun’s skin. “What will you do, Jinwoo, when I have all this information-”

Jinwoo wasted no time. He punched, his free arm flying up fast and colliding right into Taewoong’s jaw. It was such a pleasure to land a hit on the man who was making him miserable, and Jinwoo’s pleasure soared when he realized Taewoong, in his pain, had to release Myungjun finally.

Jinwoo lightly pushed Myungjun aside, then stood in front of him, blocking Taewoong’s access.

Taewoong looked pissed. He glared at Jinwoo as he rubbed his jaw. “Did you just fucking hit me?” he asked.

“What does it look like?” Jinwoo snapped. “I _said_ to leave Myungjun alone.”

He couldn’t get another word out. Taewoong suddenly rushed at him, and his knife was held in an attack position. Jinwoo grabbed both of Taewoong’s arms, trying to stop the stab that he knew would come. His arms shook with effort as Taewoong exerted more and more energy, and he finally had to push Taewoong away and stumble back.

That didn’t come without its injuries, however. The knife slipped and sliced down Jinwoo’s arm, cutting into his sleeve and instantly drawing blood.

It hurt for a split second, but Jinwoo concerned himself more with getting Taewoong away. He grabbed a nearby chair, apologizing to Myungjun’s cute, noodle shop in his head, and then he swung it.

It hit Taewoong, just as he had been moving to attack again, and it caused him to drop his knife and stagger backwards. Jinwoo snatched it up off the ground as he dropped the chair, and then he held it up, tightly gripping onto the base of it and pointing it at Taewoong.

“Get out,” he ordered, “or else.”

“Will you kill me, Jinwoo?” Taewoong asked with a snort. “Really?”

“I will, if you keep harassing Myungjun.”

Jinwoo was serious, and Taewoong seemed to notice the sudden severity of the situation. He was caught in a position he would not come unscathed from should he test his luck, and so he simply stepped back. “I’m going to tell,” he told Jinwoo. “I’m going to tell everyone that you’re just a faggot who blows other guys.”

“Fine,” Jinwoo replied. “I don’t care _who_ you tell. I don’t care if the entire world knows. I’m in love with Myungjun, and nothing you say - nothing _anyone_ can say - will ever make me stop loving him.”

It was not only directed to Taewoong, but also to Myungjun. Myungjun, who tried to reject Jinwoo’s love, needed to know that Jinwoo would only ever love him more. It would be impossible to ever stop loving Myungjun, and if everyone else would know now, then Myungjun should, as well.

He waited until Taewoong left, muttering obscenities under his breath, and only when he watched him walk down the street did Jinwoo sigh and set the knife down on a nearby table.

He glanced at Myungjun. This would be the first time they’ve spoken to each other since that one faithful day, that one day when Jinwoo’s identity was revealed. This was the first time they willingly stood in each others’ presence.

Jinwoo felt nothing but love and adoration. He wondered what Myungjun could feel.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “About...him. And the, um...chair that I hit him with. I don’t think it’s broken, but…”

Myungjun stared at him. He still looked surprised, and he asked, “Do you really hang out around here, Jinwoo?”

Jinwoo wet his lips with his tongue. He wasn’t sure how to answer that question. Wouldn’t he look like some sort of creep if he said yes? Wouldn’t he appear desperate?

He was desperate, though, and he had given up all pretense of caring. He had deteriorated by himself. He was addicted to alcohol and he constantly got high to get rid of the numbing pain in his chest. He hardly went home, and when he did, he sat and smoked and cried. His clothing smelled awful and his hair was in need of touch-ups to get rid of the murky, brown color, and he had acne from stress littered across his face.

He was a mess, and he no longer cared what anyone thought of him.

“I have,” he confirmed. Myungjun blinked in shock, and Jinwoo continued, “I haven’t been able to get you off my mind. I swear, not one day has gone by where I haven’t cried over you, and if that makes me seem miserable, then I am. I’m absolutely miserable without you. You...you had become my only purpose in life, and-and with you gone, it’s...miserable.”

He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “I’ve only hung out down the street. I’ve never tried to come inside, because I knew that it would make you uncomfortable. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I don’t want to hurt you any longer, Myungjun, and so if you tell me to leave, then I will. I’ll leave and never come back. I won’t hang around the area anymore. I’ll be gone. I know I’ve hurt you enough, and I refuse to do it-”

“You’re bleeding,” Myungjun suddenly pointed out.

“I’m...what?”

“You’re- oh my god, stop moving your arm to look. Here.” Myungjun reached out and gently grabbed onto Jinwoo’s arm, examining the wound that Taewoong had caused. Jinwoo had forgotten about it, in all his excitement and anxiety to be around Myungjun again, and he forgot about it once more as he felt Myungjun’s hand gently wrap around his own in an effort to keep it still.

They hadn’t touched in over a month or two. They hadn’t made contact in what felt like years, and Jinwoo held his breath, eyes wide as he watched Myungjun closely look over the wound.

“It’s going to get infected if we don’t clean it,” Myungjun murmured. He looked up into Jinwoo’s eyes and took his own deep breath. “I have a first aid kit in the back.”

Jinwoo felt dazed. He could hardly believe any of this was happening. “What?”

“A...a first aid kit. It was just in case I got hurt cooking - but this is clearly more necessary for first aid. Otherwise, it honestly _will_ get infected, and I don’t want that.”

“You...want me to go back to the kitchen with you?” Jinwoo stammered out.

Myungjun’s cheeks were red, and he averted his gaze. “You can just let it rot, then,” he grumbled. “I won’t care if it gets infected and-and then you have to amputate and walk around with a stump arm-”

“No, I can, I can come back,” Jinwoo assured him.

He heard Myungjun whisper a soft, “Good,” as he dragged Jinwoo over to the kitchen, but Jinwoo couldn’t stop smiling.

Even if it was only for a few minutes, even if it was only because Myungjun didn’t want him bleeding on his watch, at least they could be together again.

Jinwoo wanted to hold onto this moment forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND SO NOW WHAT? u must stick with this fic to figure out.
> 
> please follow me on my [tumblr](http://www.vonseal.tumblr.com) or on my [twitter](https://twitter.com/nightmjare) (i comment more regularly on twitter now oops)! i'll give spoilers and updates and whatnot on either platform! i also post my update schedule onto twitter, so if you're curious when this fic will release chapter nineteen, check there!
> 
>  
> 
> **i would also appreciate it if you took five seconds to complete[THIS POLL!](https://goo.gl/forms/wt7KJUOn6ryEdUFI3)**


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **chapter warning:** language, mentions of sex and drug use

Following Myungjun into the kitchen was like deja vu. Jinwoo recalled the first time he had ever followed Myungjun, the first time Myungjun had spoken to him and interacted with him and made him feel as important as royalty. It was at that time he had truly revealed his status as Sunshine; he exerted rays bright enough to warm Jinwoo’s entire week.

Now, though, the sun was dimmed, lips straight in a tight line and body tense as he moved forward. He was clearly uncomfortable, sharing his time with Jinwoo once more, but he remained steadfast, regardless of how he felt, and grabbed the first aid kit down from it’s spot in a small cabinet. “Sit down,” he ordered.

Jinwoo blinked, then pulled a stool up and perched on that. He folded his hands in his lap and watched as Myungjun pulled out various items from the first aid kit - a roll of bandages, antiseptic, some sort of tape.

“You don’t need to do this, Myungjun,” Jinwoo murmured. He glanced down at his shirt and sighed. He knew he must stink of smoke and weed. He knew his hair was in disarray and his eyes held dark circles underneath. He had fallen into this pitiful state of being and he had never wanted Myungjun to see him at a point so low in his life.

Yet, Myungjun didn’t seem to care very much. He just clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth as he poured some of the antiseptic onto a cotton ball. “Roll up your sleeve,” came his next order. “I need to see your arm.”

The words carried Jinwoo back to that month ago, when Myungjun had requested the exact same thing. It was a repeat of his request from then, and Jinwoo pulled his arm away in fear. He didn’t want another bad reaction. He didn’t want Myungjun to hate him anymore than he already did. He just wanted them to at  _ least _ part on amicable terms; if they could not love each other anymore, he wanted to know that Myungjun didn’t despise him.

Myungjun seemed to also recognize the weight of his words, and he bit down on his bottom lip, chewing it with worry. “Um,” he said, and then he took a deep breath. “Jinwoo, I need to see the wound. That’s all.”

Jinwoo wanted to spit back some sort of response, to rudely give an answer to Myungjun’s demand, but he couldn’t do that, not when  _ he _ had been the issue all along. He was the reason Myungjun became so sad, and he was the reason Myungjun’s shop became the target of the gang, and he was the reason their relationship crashed and crumbled to the ground. It was all his fault, and so he had no room to speak.

Instead, he finally just nodded his head. He took off his jacket, laying it across a countertop, and then began to roll up the sleeve to his light sweater.

His tattoos were, once more, revealed. The obscene ones and the gang ones and all of those in between were now on full display for Myungjun to look at.

His wound from the knife ran right through one of the tattoos, a skull with flowers in its eyes, and Jinwoo stared upon his arm with disappointment. This wound would become yet another scar; it would be one of many that his body was now home to.

He felt gross with all of these marks. His skin had become an unwilling canvas and he despised the results.

If Myungjun was also disgusted, he said nothing. He simply began to clean Jinwoo’s cut, carefully dabbing at the affected area with his cotton ball of antiseptic. It stung, but it wasn’t anything Jinwoo wasn’t used to. He winced once, and Myungjun drew back quickly, looking scared for a second.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked. “D-Did I press down too hard?”

Jinwoo wondered why Myungjun still cared. Why wouldn’t he just push Jinwoo aside and be done with it all? Why couldn’t they just agree to never see each other again? Why couldn’t he punish Jinwoo how he ought to?

“No,” is what Jinwoo said instead, quickly caving under the concern in Myungjun’s gaze. “It...it didn’t hurt me at all.”

“But you winced.”

Jinwoo swallowed thickly and shrugged his shoulders. “It’s a knife wound,” he mumbled, “of course it hurts a little bit. But it’s not your fault. It’s never your fault. You’ve done nothing wrong, Myungjun.”

Myungjun hesitated for a moment before coming forward again to finish his task in cleaning the wound. He concentrated and took his time, ensuring the blood was wiped away and the wound had become less red before he grabbed his bandages.

He poised to start wrapping the area, but he stopped, gazing down instead at the tattoos. “Jinwoo, is it required to get these tattoos to be a gang member?” he questioned.

Jinwoo tried to pull back, but Myungjun grabbed onto his wrist, effectively stopping him. “Myungjun, I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I’m curious,” came Myungjun’s response, but he let go of Jinwoo’s arm anyway and pursed his lips as he continued to stare down at the designs. “Why do you belong in a gang?” he asked quietly.

Jinwoo didn’t know whether or not the question was hypothetical, at first, but then Myungjun looked up at him, his eyebrows furrowed and his gaze inquisitive. 

“I told you before, I ran into some issues after my mom passed away.” He wanted that to be it, to be all that he said, but it was clear Myungjun wasn’t going to let things go. He didn’t move, just waited for a continuation, and so Jinwoo felt he had no choice but to keep talking. “I didn’t live in a great neighborhood in general. Shady. Small. Full of gang activity. I grew up surrounded by it, but I thought I was immune from its pulls. My mom was protective and was certain I would grow up to be someone...someone powerful and rich and important, and so I didn’t bother myself with gangs. I went to school and would come home and do chores around the house. But when Mom got sick, it...it was difficult to do anything.

“She was confined to the hospital. We needed to pay our bills, though. I wanted to keep the house running for her while she was gone, but she wasn’t working and I wasn’t working, so I asked a few of the gang members in our neighborhood for a loan. I knew they had money, and I promised I’d repay them in any way possible.”

Jinwoo sighed and ducked his head as he continued, “Part of me knew my mom wouldn’t survive the cancer. Part of me knew all the loans were useless. I lived and stayed at the hospital, and yet I kept our house payments up and I would buy things to make her feel better and I had to pay off hospital bills, too, and it all piled up, so when she died, I had to take out even  _ more _ for a simple funeral. Those things were expensive, and I never thought about it. All I thought about was making sure my mom was comfortable.

So my mom was dead, and I was just stuck with this immense debt. I had no way to pay it off. I asked the gang members, and they told me how much I could earn if I was part of their gang. They promised that I would receive protection and...and love and care. Obviously, that’s only partially true, and I’m still paying off my debts to them by giving them a lot of the income I earn from any activities. I do jobs on the side, too, for extra money - sometimes it does involve drug deals. It’s not good. It’s not right. It’s not  _ legal _ , but...god, Myungjun, I got caught up in this when I was young and stupid and just scared. You...you understand, right? I didn’t  _ want _ this to be my life. I just wanted my mom to live and to go to school and maybe become someone interesting. I didn’t want to be a big-shot. I just wanted...maybe to be a photographer, or else a writer, just anyone other than who I am right now.”

Myungjun nodded his head slowly as if he understood. “Is that why you pretended to be a photographer to me?” he asked.

With a snort, Jinwoo also nodded his head. “You asked...you asked about my wound. Remember, when we first started to talk? You were worried, and I  _ could _ have told you the truth - I got it during a drug deal that went south. But how much would you respect me after that? How much would you want to be around me after that? I hate what I do and the way I live and-and everything. You wouldn’t try to be around me after that. You wouldn’t have fallen in love with me after that. I was desperate for your attention and presence, and I...I thought up a lie as fast as possible. I pretended to be a photographer for you. I bought a camera, I went out to take pictures - I did as much as possible to make my lie believable.” He glanced up, smiling bitterly at Myungjun, and added, “I hated myself more for lying to you.”

“What were you going to do when...when our relationship kept developing?” Myungjun asked, and then he started bandaging Jinwoo’s wound, finally working on covering up the long, angry mark across his tattoos. “How would you hide your identity when...when things got more intimate? Or even when the weather turned warmer and you could no longer wear your long-sleeved shirts. What were you planning to do then?”

“I didn’t want to think that far in advance,” Jinwoo admitted, watching closely as Myungjun wrapped the bandage around his arm, riding them both of the sight of the wound and the ugly tattoos. “I took things day by day. I...I just enjoyed every single bit of every single moment, and I started to delude myself. I thought,  _ even if he figures out, he still will love me _ . Of course, in my delusions, I was going to be the one to tell you. That asshole Taewoong wasn’t anywhere near my own, personal plans for our future together.”

Myungjun wrinkled his nose. “But did you think I would really be okay with it all? With-with the drugs, and the...the girls you would sleep with, and-”

“I had basically stopped taking drugs after I met you,” Jinwoo retorted. “I would get high to forget life’s issues and to numb my own pain of living - I didn’t need it anymore when I was with you. Same with the girls. It...it was just something I did to ease myself of loneliness, but you...you became my answer to everything.”

He didn’t know if Myungjun was convinced or not. The boy shrugged his shoulders and just returned back to his current task.

Then, he mumbled, “You smell like weed.”

“Now I do, obviously. I fell back into these stupid vices. You were my steady anchor, and with you gone, I started to drown once again. It’s disgusting. It’s pathetic. You can be grossed out, I don’t care, I’m a miserable sack of shit.”

“You’re not!” Myungjun snapped. Jinwoo looked at him in surprise. He hadn’t expected Myungjun to so vehemently defend him. “You’re  _ not _ disgusting, o-or a sack of shit. You’re  _ not _ , okay?” He taped the bandage down, but he didn’t release Jinwoo’s arm. “When you were with me, you were...you were respectable and dignified and sweet and polite. You never acted like-like those other  _ assholes _ , like the gang members you call your friends. You were different from them, Jinwoo, and that’s why I loved you so much. You were special.”

Jinwoo could have sobbed. He wanted to sob. Instead, he just closed his eyes and sighed. “I participated in gang activities while we were together. I put on this fucking front. I hid myself from you. I acted like the kind and caring photographer, and then I’d go off and threaten old shop owners, or-or get involved in those drug deals at strip clubs and awful nightclubs. Do you really think I was... _ special? _ Do you really think I was worth anything more than all of the other men I hung out with?”

Myungjun narrowed his eyes and nodded. “I don’t think what you gave to me was any sort of front. I think you gave a front to  _ them _ .”

Jinwoo blinked. “What?”

“Just...think about it, right? You...you said you hadn’t meant to get caught up in that business. You claimed it was because of debts that you joined the gang and stayed in the gang. That was never your original intention, and so you put on a front to  _ them _ . Didn’t you, Jinwoo? You were always...you were genuine to me. You always spoke the truth, I  _ know _ you did.”

“I-I lied to you, though. I didn’t speak the truth when I just sat down and  _ lied _ to you, constantly, Myungjun, so why do you-”

“I don’t think you ever once lied about how much you loved me.”

The statement came so suddenly, so quickly, so boldly, and Jinwoo felt speechless. He stared at Myungjun, watching as the boy writhed under his gaze, embarrassed and nervous. “I meant…” Myungjun started, clearing his throat and attempting to fix his sentence. “I meant...I-I mean, I  _ meant _ just...just  _ that _ , but I didn’t mean for it to come out so-so oddly, like that. I just feel...I truly think you were always genuine about your emotions and your feelings. Even if you lied about who you were, you...never wanted to treat me badly. You’re not the sort of person to treat me badly.”

Jinwoo could hardly believe what Myungjun was saying. It sounded slightly like forgiveness, but he hardly dared to hope that Myungjun would ever forgive him. He held his breath in anticipation, then whispered, “I still love you, Myungjun.”

Myungjun shook his head harshly. “Don’t say that,” he snapped.

“But I do-”

“I know you do. I  _ know _ you do, and that’s what...that’s what I don’t need right now. That’s what I don’t want.” He put away the medical supplies, then stuffed the kit back in its original place. He seemed flustered and unsure suddenly, and he gestured for Jinwoo to stand up. “You should probably leave,” he suggested, pointing at the door. “I can’t...I don’t think I can do this right now, okay?”

It had sounded like forgiveness, but maybe Jinwoo read the situation all wrong. “Myungjun, please-”

“Jinwoo, you still lied to me. Even if-if you remained true to your feelings, you still lied to me and tricked me. How can you expect me to just take you back, t-to pretend none of it ever happened? I’m...I’m  _ mad _ , I’m so mad…” He trailed off, then sighed and started to roll down Jinwoo’s sleeve. He moved gently, fingers lightly touching the skin as he worked, eyes narrowed in concentration. “I wanted you to be exactly who you said you were,” he whispered.

Jinwoo couldn’t help it. He leaned in, bumping his forehead into Myungjun’s, and responded, “Everything I have is on the table now. You know everything - please trust me from now on. Please accept me.”

He wanted Myungjun’s acceptance. He wanted Myungjun’s  _ love _ .

Myungjun, for his part, didn’t move back. Instead, he stared right back into Jinwoo’s gaze. His hands remained on Jinwoo’s wrist, gripping at his sleeve, and he wet his lips with his tongue. “I don’t know if I can,” he murmured. “Jinwoo, please-”

Jinwoo knew he was treading thin ice. He knew he should leave, as Myungjun suggested, but he instead leaned in further and planted his lips up against Myungjun’s lips.

He hadn’t kissed him in over a month. He had forgotten how addicting it was, how soft and plump Myungjun’s lips were, how they molded right into shape. He forgot how the boy would moan into kisses, would greedily accept all that he could, what take what Jinwoo did not give him. Even now, Myungjun  _ wanted _ the kiss. He took it all, selfish and secure, and kissed back with such ferocity, Jinwoo was certain he would topple over.

He did not, though, for Myungjun drew back just as suddenly as he had kissed back. He took a deep breath and shook his head hurriedly, rushing to scramble away from Jinwoo. “G-Get out,” he ordered. “Just...just get the hell out of my life, Jinwoo.”

Jinwoo stood from the stool, ashamed of the damage he was still causing for Myungjun. Even when he rescued him from gang members, even when he hurt himself defending Myungjun, he still managed to hurt him. He caused him more pain than any physical wound ever could. He stayed around and hurt Myungjun, day after day after day.

He ought to leave, then, and never look back.

But the kiss replayed in his mind, a mantra he could not forget. The image of Myungjun’s willing acceptance and of his blissful expression - it all remained in Jinwoo’s head.

Myungjun had  _ wanted _ that. Myungjun had taken and given just as much as Jinwoo.

Myungjun still held affection for him, then.

So he would leave, physically. He would exit Myungjun’s shop for the day. He would allow Myungjun space.

But, he decided as he left  _ The Star _ without glancing back once, he would not stay gone for too long. He would return to take more of Myungjun’s love for himself, to hold it within his heart, to win back the man who had become his reason for life.

Myungjun loved him, that much was clear. He hid his love out of fear of more betrayal and hurt and pain, but he  _ loved Jinwoo _ . 

Jinwoo wanted that love. He would return and take what rightfully belonged to him.

He would put Sunshine back into his miserable, pathetic existence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i think next week, we shall have two chapters - an early christmas present for my lovely readers!
> 
> please follow me on my [tumblr](http://www.vonseal.tumblr.com) or on my [twitter](https://twitter.com/nightmjare) (i comment more regularly on twitter now oops)! i'll give spoilers and updates and whatnot on either platform! i also post my update schedule onto twitter, so if you're curious when this fic will release chapters twenty and twenty-one, check there!


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no chapter warnings this time!

Jinwoo was filled with sudden new appreciation and hope for life. He knew now that Myungjun liked him; at the very least, he had returned the kiss quite willingly, and surely that meant there was something there between the two of them. Surely that meant, even deep down, Myungjun had feelings for Jinwoo that he just refused to discuss or admit to.

That’s what Jinwoo believed, in any case. He was certain of it, and so he returned to _his_ home, away from Youngsoo, and, for once, took the Pikachu plushie from the drawer he had stuffed it in. He patted its head and cooed to it and murmured, “I’m in love with him, Pikachu. And I think he’s in love with me.”

Pikachu was nothing but a stuffed animal with a blank face, but still, Jinwoo smiled and talked to it. “He kissed me back, you know. He was enthusiastic for the few seconds we kissed - this _means_ something, doesn’t it? Don’t you think it does, Pikachu?”

Silence was his answer, and Jinwoo laughed as he set the plushie down on his bed. He stretched his arms up over his head and took a deep breath before glancing at himself in the mirror. He was still a mess, still a wreck, but he noticed a life in his eyes he hadn’t seen in over a month, since Myungjun first broke it off with him. He was brightening up, becoming far more used to what life had to offer.

He was basking again in the glow of Sunshine.

He knew it was unlikely, though, that Myungjun would simply accept him flat out. He knew it would take a while for their relationship to become what it once was. He knew, too, that he was unsure if Myungjun would even want that relationship to unfold and for them to become something again.

It was going to be difficult to convince Myungjun that he was worth it, but perhaps he would try his hardest. He would become someone Myungjun could be proud of, someone Myungjun could continue to love. He would prove, too, to Myungjun that he wasn’t just some worthless gangster. He was a human with dreams and emotions. He felt guilty for his acts of harm, lost for his place in life, vulnerable and open to change.

Jinwoo collapsed onto his bed, spreading his arms out and staring up at the ceiling. He narrowed his eyes as he considered all the different ways he could make Myungjun fall in love with him again. Short of running away from his current life, Jinwoo would do anything for Myungjun. He would cross any ocean or climb any mountain in order to prove his love for Myungjun, his complete adoration for Myungjun.

“What do you think, Pikachu?” he asked the little plushie, reaching out to pat it. “Do you think he’d fall for me right now if I went to prove my love?”

He glanced over at his stuffed animal. Even though it was nothing but a toy, Pikachu didn’t appear totally convinced.

Either that, or Jinwoo was just unsure of himself.

He sat up again and sighed loudly. “You’re right,” he muttered to it, tapping a finger on his knee. “I don’t think he’d fall for a guy who looks like _this_.”

He planned for the rest of the night. He planned out his attack and the changes he would have to make to himself. He thought long and hard and calculated, in his mind, all of Myungjun’s most positive responses to his appearance and attitude.

The next morning, he got to work preparing himself. He smiled more at the mirror, even if he still thought he looked ugly. He dried his hair and styled it properly, in the wavy manner Myungjun always seemed to like, pushed a bit off his forehead and showcasing his eyes more. He wore his glasses instead of his contacts - Myungjun had always mentioned he thought the glasses were cute. He even dabbed on a bit of makeup, covering up the dark circles under his eyes and the blemishes of acne on his cheeks. He wore the cologne Myungjun once bought him, a light scent that reminded Jinwoo of both the sea and the forest. He dressed in layers, as Myungjun would have wanted, and topped it all off with the yellow gloves on his hand.

He looked the part of Myungjun’s boyfriend. He smelled nice and dressed nice and seemed respectable enough that he didn’t know how Myungjun could ever turn him away.

“I deserve Myungjun,” he told his reflection in the mirror. He nodded slowly, then repeated those words: “I deserve to be with Myungjun. I’m worthy of his love and affection. I _belong_ with him.” Myungjun had been the only good thing in his life. Myungjun had been the only worthwhile thing in his life. Jinwoo, a rotten person from environment, felt as if he wasn’t so sinful and terrible that he deserved misery for the rest of his life. He did good deeds sometimes. He dreamed of things far better than what he had now. He _deserved_ Sunshine, and Myungjun was his sunshine.

With one final look-over to ensure he hadn’t forgotten to wear something or style something, he was off, hurrying to the station to catch the next bus.

It was a little too late in the day for Myungjun to be on it; Jinwoo knew this. Myungjun arrived to work early in order to prepare the restaurant and to do a bit of bookkeeping. Still, Jinwoo felt anticipation in his belly whenever the bus stopped to let people on. He kept looking for a cute man with a beanie and big, red mittens, but no one showed. It was just other people, bland and boring and not at all Myungjun.

The bus finally came to the correct stop. Jinwoo stumbled off of it and hurried the short distance over to _The Star_.

It was open and already inviting customers in. The atmosphere was warm and happy, a stark contrast from what had happened just the day before. Jinwoo took a deep breath, taking in the smell of all the different types of noodles being served, before he shuffled forward and took a seat; his usual spot, right near the kitchen, was wide open and Jinwoo was greedy.

He twiddled his thumbs for a few seconds before he noticed Sanha hurrying up to greet him.

The boy smiled widely, nearly hopping up and down with excitement, and he bowed to Jinwoo. “Hello!” he exclaimed with great cheer. “Oh, gosh, Jinwoo, it’s so good to see you! It’s been _ages_ \- Myungjun said you guys broke up?”

Jinwoo’s stomach turned. How much did Sanha hear? How much did Sanha know? He didn’t want his chance with the family to be ruined, as well. It was bad enough he had to try and win back Myungjun’s love; he didn’t want to ruin his efforts to Myungjun’s family, too.

“We...we did, yeah,” Jinwoo mumbled, and he cleared his throat.

Sanha pouted. “I don’t know what Myungjun did, but I hope you can forgive him.”

Jinwoo glanced up at him. Forgive _Myungjun?_ Why on earth would Myungjun need forgiving? “What, um, what all did Myungjun tell you?” Jinwoo asked, trying not to seem too cautious or curious.

“Not much,” Sanha admitted. He glanced over at the kitchen, ensuring Myungjun wasn’t coming out, then he leaned into Jinwoo’s table. “He just said he had really messed up and it was his fault. He kept telling us that you didn’t do anything wrong.” Sanha pursed his lips and asked, “What happened? I-I always thought you two were happy together. Did he cheat on you?”

Jinwoo was shocked. Why on earth would Myungjun lie to his family like that? What would he gain from trying to protect Jinwoo? Surely it would be easier to explain that Jinwoo had been the one to ruin the relationship, that he had lied to Myungjun, had hidden his life behind a secret identity. Why would Myungjun throw _himself_ under the bus?

“I’m...n-no, he didn’t cheat.”

Sanha looked curious to know more, but Myungjun exited the kitchen just then, two bowls of ramen in his hands. He looked first at Sanha, then over at Jinwoo.

His eyes widened when he saw Jinwoo. Jinwoo just gave him a tiny grin and a short wave of his hand.

“Sanha,” Myungjun barked, then stuffed the bowls of ramen into his arms. Sanha grunted in frustration, then rolled his eyes when Myungjun said, “Table five. The lady ordered the spicy one. Don’t mix it up.”

He waited until Sanha had stormed off to his table before turning his anger onto Jinwoo. “Didn’t I tell you to stay the hell away from me?” he snapped. He crossed his arms over his chest defensively. “Why are you back here?”

Jinwoo hadn’t expected to be berated. He thought, after the kiss they shared the day before, Myungjun might find some love for him deep down in his heart. “I, uh...missed you.”

“Jinwoo, I had said-”

“Don’t you think I look nice today?” Jinwoo asked, interrupting Myungjun mid-sentence. “I wore...I wore the sweater you like. And I have on these glasses. An-And the gloves…”

Myungjun hardly batted an eye. He just bit down on his lip and took a deep breath. “I could care less how you look. Get out.”

He turned to leave, but before he could go anywhere, Jinwoo reached out and grabbed his arm. “Myungjun,” he begged. “ _Please_. Please, just...just let me talk, okay? Just listen to me - hear me out. I know you want to, if our kiss yesterday is any sort of indication to your feelings-”

“Don’t bring that up.”

“Then _listen_ to me!” Jinwoo was desperate. This wasn’t going how he thought whatsoever. “Let’s just talk! If you decide, after we talk, that you never want to see me again, then I’ll respect it, fully and completely, and I’ll leave and I won’t ever return. I won’t hang around and I won’t even take that bus ever again. I promise, but first, please talk to me.”

Myungjun took a deep breath and then pried Jinwoo’s fingers off of him. He didn’t say anything at first, but he didn’t leave, either. He simply closed his eyes briefly and, finally, whispered, “If you’re still here when I take my break, then..then we can talk.”

It was something, at least. Jinwoo nodded his head, allowing Myungjun the chance to depart, and he decided he would wait. He would wait until Myungjun was ready, however long that took. He would wait hours, if necessary, in order to get some sort of finalization on their relationship.

He wasn’t prepared to give up so easily, and so if Myungjun made him wait, he would.

Myungjun _did_ take his time. He made more dishes and delivered more food and talked to more customers. He pointedly ignored Jinwoo each and every time he entered or exited the kitchen. Jinwoo probably didn’t exist to Myungjun. He was pushed aside, out of his vision, and Jinwoo felt fine with that. If it made Myungjun feel better, then it would be alright.

Sanha tried to take Jinwoo’s order at some point, apologizing for his brother still being a jerk, but Jinwoo shook his head. “Myungjun’s not a jerk,” Jinwoo said. “He’s never been a jerk.”

“Then do you forgive him?” Sanha asked, excited.

“There’s never been anything to forgive.”

Myungjun’s current behavior was understandable. Jinwoo disliked being ignored, but he knew why Myungjun wouldn’t look at him. He deserved it, anyway, and so he _accepted_ it with as much dignity as he could possibly muster.

It took a couple of hours for Myungjun to go on break. Sanha was the one who finally forced him, who shoved him toward Jinwoo’s table and muttered, “I’ll cook for a bit, you two really need to talk.”

Myungjun looked displeased about the new situation, but he didn’t argue it at all. He just crossed his arms over his chest and muttered, “We should go outside.”

“Right,” Jinwoo said, scrambling up from his seat. His legs hurt from sitting down so long, and his back hurt from his position of craning his neck in order to catch sight of Myungjun, but he didn’t complain. He simply followed Myungjun out back, into the small and cramped section shared by several businesses, and waited for Myungjun to speak.

Myungjun leaned up against the brick wall and stared at Jinwoo with such severity in his gaze that Jinwoo had to duck his head.

“I don’t want to love you,” Myungjun blurted out. “I...I don’t want to continue to love you. It’s...it’s pathetic. It’s gross. You led me on and lied to me, and...I still love you.”

Jinwoo glanced over at him. Myungjun licked his lips and took a deep, shuddering breath, fog produced forth from his mouth, tears developing in his eyes. “I don’t _want_ to. It’s...it’s like I’m too-too weak to stay away. It’s like I can’t even control my own emotions and feelings, and I _need_ to. I can’t be with you. Not after what you did, not after what I now know you _do_.”

“I’m not a bad person,” Jinwoo promised, a bit quietly. “I’m in a bad situation, but I’m not a bad-”

“You...you’ve done bad things. That makes you _bad_.”

The words stung. Jinwoo accepted them. He would accept all that Myungjun had to offer. “I promise, I did nothing but love you. I will do nothing but love you. For...for the rest of my existence, Myungjun, I promise I will love you.”

“Isn’t that the issue though?” Myungjun asked. He was crying now, struggling to keep it in, but the tears still began to roll down his cheeks regardless of his best efforts. “We love each other, an-and we _can’t_ . You do things I-I don’t agree with. I can’t get caught up in your lifestyle, I just _can’t_ . Y-Your _friends_ have hurt my business, an-and they threaten all of the poor, innocent shop owners around here, just to get some money - you’re involved with it all, and with drugs and-and prostitution, right? You’ve done it all, and I’m...I’m scared to be a part of that.”

Jinwoo understood all of Myungjun’s fears. They were good fears to have. Myungjun _shouldn’t_ allow himself to become tainted from the love of a gang member. Jinwoo would despise seeing Myungjun with someone else who smoked or drank or had slept around. He would murder anyone who put Myungjun’s life in danger simply by being near him.

Jinwoo, though, was doing it all himself, anyway. _He_ would be the cause of Myungjun’s turmoil.

“Perhaps, then, we shouldn’t start this back up,” he said.

Myungjun blinked through his tears, staring at him in surprise, and asked, “What?”

“I don’t want you to be uncomfortable, and I don’t want you to toss aside everything you know just for me.” He did, though. He wanted it all. He was greedy and selfish and desired Myungjun’s utmost love and affection. “So if being together means that you will be miserable, I can’t do it.”

That was true, at least. He fell in love with Sunshine. He would hate to see Sunshine dimmed from the gray clouds that followed Jinwoo in his life.

 _But_ , he reminded himself, Sunshine could clear away Jinwoo’s gray clouds. He was the lucky charm for Jinwoo’s life to finally turn around.

He needed Myungjun more than ever.

“I love you,” Jinwoo confessed to him. “I’ve loved you since our first meeting and I always will love you more than I’ve ever loved anything at all. And I _want_ to be with you, so badly, but...you have to decide whether or not you’ll be okay if you’re with me.”

He wanted it, he wanted it, he _wanted it_. He wanted to take Myungjun’s love by force and to soak up in it. Ever since they kissed the other day, he knew that he was addicted to Myungjun.

Myungjun tightened his lips into a thin line. He looked helpless, standing there in nothing but his work uniform and apron, shivering slightly in the cold. Jinwoo wanted to hold him close, to warm up his sun and to never release him, but he would wait for permission. He wouldn’t do a thing until Myungjun was certain.

“I should push you away,” Myungjun whispered, but he shook his head and sobbed out, “J-Jinwoo, I can’t do it. I can’t _not_ love you - oh, god, Jinwoo, I love you.” He stepped forward and tried to smile despite his tears. “I love you, Jinwoo.”

Jinwoo’s heart was racing. He didn’t move, not just yet, but he stood still in anticipation.

Myungjun took another step. “Can I love you?” he asked, sniffing. “Can we try this again, J-Jinwoo? With no lies this time? Can we make i-it work?”

He hardly dared to believe how things transpired. Myungjun wanted to be with him again? Myungjun wanted their relationship back? It was amazing and perfect and fantastic, and Jinwoo couldn’t help but grin as he reached forward and smoothed Myungjun’s hair down before running a hand across his cheek. His skin was wet with tears, but still just as soft as Jinwoo remembered it. “I’ll do everything possible to make it work,” he promised. “I won’t ever lie to you again. I’ll commit myself to you one hundred percent. I’ll love you - I _love_ you.”

Myungjun returned the smile, albeit tearfully, then wrapped his arms around Jinwoo and buried his face into the crook in Jinwoo’s neck, taking a deep breath. His tears now clung to Jinwoo’s skin, but Jinwoo refused to draw back.

“I love you,” Myungjun whispered, shakily, and then he sighed deeply. “I want to stay with you forever and ever, no matter what, Jinwoo. I love you so much.”

Jinwoo felt himself blossoming upwards again. He felt Sunshine open his closed petals, revealing now his true worth and potential. He shared a relationship with the sun unlike any other; it was nurturing and kind and it gave him life.

He was a daffodil and spring had finally broken through the dark chills of winter.

“I love you, Sunshine,” Jinwoo responded, and he held the sun within his grasp to never again let go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> myungjin is BACK! but will that pesky angst tag return??? find out on the 21st.
> 
> please follow me on my [tumblr](http://www.vonseal.tumblr.com) or on my [twitter](https://twitter.com/nightmjare) (i comment more regularly on twitter now oops)! i'll give spoilers and updates and whatnot on either platform! i also post my update schedule onto twitter, so if you're curious when this fic will release chapter twenty-one, check there!
> 
> also, please take [this little survey](https://goo.gl/forms/GUimh7XhYreKpF7v2) before the end of the year!


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **chapter warnings:** an abundant amount of fluff

They had parted ways that night, after deciding to get back together. Myungjun hadn’t wanted to see him go, had wanted to prolong the visit as much as possible, but Jinwoo promised they would see each other again soon. They would start their relationship over; no lies from now on. Everything was laid out on the table, and Myungjun accepted the baggage Jinwoo would bring along. He agreed to continue forth in their romance despite Jinwoo’s placement in life.

He decided he loved Jinwoo no matter what.

Jinwoo was beyond ecstatic. He couldn’t believe he had finally gotten Myungjun back, after days and days of pining pathetically for him. Myungjun  _ loved _ him, and wanted things to work, and Jinwoo was determined that he would ensure everything was going to be perfect for the two of them.

When he arrived home that evening, he pushed everything aside on his bed and began his planning process. He researched different fine dining establishments that could be found in the nearby vicinity. He looked at the menus, comparing the foods with what he  _ knew _ Myungjun liked to eat. He devised lists of best times to get to each of the restaurants, romantic places they could walk to afterwards, even possible music serenades, catered to Myungjun’s specific musical tastes and interests.

Things would have to go without any sort of hitch or issue. He would make the best impression possible on Myungjun, and then they could be together for the rest of their lives.

He explained his date idea to Myungjun the next day as he helped to open the noodle shop. He had missed unstacking chairs and wiping down tables and setting up the flowers on the tables. It brought him such joy to be back in his favorite position, helping Myungjun out with his dream in life.

“I’ll pick you up at six tomorrow evening,” he said, straightening up a few of the nearby flowers. “Be sure to wear something really nice.”

“Nice?” Myungjun looked up from the register, where he was counting out money. “How nice?”

Jinwoo shrugged. “Dressy, I think. It’s a really nice place. I made reservations and everything!” He was proud of himself for taking the initiative to plan out such an amazing evening for the two of them. This would be his first  _ fancy _ date, far different from the bowling and ice-skating he had experienced with Myungjun before their relationship was put into shambles.

Myungjun, however, did not look convinced. He pursed his lips and leaned against the counter. “So it’s a fancy place, then?”

“Yeah!” Jinwoo nodded his head in enthusiasm. He finished his task of setting the tables, then rounded the corner of the counters to stand beside Myungjun, glancing over at the money he was counting before adding, “I’ve got it all covered. I’m paying for  _ everything _ tomorrow night, so you just relax and enjoy it!”

Myungjun raised his eyebrows. “I’ve never been anywhere really fancy before.”

“First time for everything!” Jinwoo exclaimed, and he planted a kiss to Myungjun’s cheek, burying his nose slightly in the plush skin and nuzzling until he heard Myungjun giggle.

That was the sound he had adored, and that was the sound he had really, truly missed.

The night couldn’t come fast enough. Jinwoo had even borrowed a car from a friend in preparation. He had it cleaned from top to bottom and, as he arrived to Myungjun’s house, he commended himself on a job well done. Everything was shiny and sparkly and perfect.

Myungjun, too, as he exited his house, looked absolutely dashing. He wore a navy suit, accented with a black tie and crisp, white shirt. He had a heavy jacket over top and he was wrapped in his usual scarf and clad in the recognizable red mittens. He looked cute, especially with the way he grinned when he saw Jinwoo.

“You clean up really well!” he announced, moving to stand beside his boyfriend.

“So...so do you,” Jinwoo responded. He felt at loss for words. He had seen Myungjun in all sorts of clothing, but never before had he seen him in anything so  _ nice _ . It complimented him perfectly, and Jinwoo found himself just returning his smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he gazed upon the sun.

Myungjun cleared his throat, clearly a bit uncomfortable with the attention. “Um…” He gestured to the car. “I didn’t know you had a car.”

Jinwoo blinked and snapped himself out of his gazing. “Oh,” he said, stepped back. “Yeah, um...I don’t. It’s a friend’s car. I just wanted to borrow it for tonight.” He opened the passenger door for Myungjun and gestured for him to enter. “After all, it’s a special night with my special date.”

It was  _ extremely _ special and important to Jinwoo. It was the first date with the start of their new relationship, and things had to be perfect.

Myungjun scooted into his seat and waited to talk again until Jinwoo was driving.

“So…” He drummed his fingers against the window. “We eat and...then what?”

Jinwoo smirked. “Romantic walk at a nearby park,” he responded. He had a few surprises waiting there - a man with a violin to play to Myungjun, a gazebo nearby with twinkling fairy lights strung up all around, and a little spot to overlook a lake until Myungjun was too sleepy to stay up any longer. The timing was meticulously planned and he relied on a few professionals to make sure things went well. 

He wouldn’t tell Myungjun everything, though. He didn’t want to ruin the surprise.

Myungjun nodded his head and gave a small hum.

Then the conversation fell flat.

Jinwoo struggled to think of something to say. He knew things were bound to be a bit awkward between the two of them - their breakup had been horrendous, and it was hard to get back on track. Still, he had expected that Myungjun would at least  _ talk _ to him.

“Did...did, um, did you sleep well?” Jinwoo asked.

“Oh, yeah, very well. How about you?”

“Fine.”

The rest of the drive was silent, and Jinwoo couldn’t help but curse himself in his mind. This was  _ not _ how the start of their date was supposed to go, and he was appalled with how terribly weird things were now.

They arrived at the restaurant and Jinwoo tried to hurry around and help Myungjun out of the car, but Myungjun had already stood and closed the door behind him, completely ruining Jinwoo’s romantic intentions. If he noticed, he said nothing of it. He just glanced at the restaurant building and pointed out, “It looks expensive.”

It had been  _ very _ expensive, way more than Jinwoo was willing to ever admit. He wouldn’t spend as much on other dates, but for this one, he was prepared to lose everything he owned if it would ensure Myungjun could stay with him forever.

The hostess saw them and smiled politely. Her eyes, however, traveled between the two of them and, upon noticing a lack of women by their sides, she hesitated. It was brief, though, and she asked, “Table for two?”

“I made reservations,” Jinwoo pointed out. “Under  _ Park Jinwoo _ .”

She checked her sheet, then nodded her head. “Park Jinwoo and guest for...the private lounge?” she asked. “Is this right?”

“Yes,” Jinwoo confirmed.

She cocked her head. “That’s normally reserved for couples.”

The comment was unnecessary. Beside him, Myungjun tensed, but Jinwoo refused to let a simple, harmless mistake ruin their night. He simply laughed and grabbed onto Myungjun’s hand, bringing it up to his chest in an effort to show it off. “Yes, well,” he responded.

The girl nodded, and then smiled again, showing nothing but professionalism now. “My mistake,” she said, and she grabbed two menus before asking, “Will you follow me, please?”

Their table was one of three others in a room to the back. It was lit with candles and soft music echoed through the small space. Jinwoo’s table was closest to the large, glass windows that overlooked the city , showcasing the brilliant lights of skyscrapers and other buildings as the sun settled down on the horizon.

Myungjun looked impressed, and Jinwoo smiled happily upon noticing.

“It’s a pretty view,” Myungjun pointed out.

“My view is much more beautiful,” said Jinwoo, and his smile turned into a grin once Myungjun looked over at him.

The older boy scrunched his nose up. “That sounds cheesy.” Despite his words, however, Jinwoo could detect a faint blush rising up his cheeks, and he averted his eyes to look down at his menu. “Oh, god,” he suddenly blurted out. “Jinwoo, these prices are  _ ridiculously _ expensive. Have you seen it?”

Jinwoo had already researched the menu. He knew how much things cost. It would put a large dent in his wallet, but he was willing to go to the extreme to please Myungjun. “Like I said, cost is not an issue here. Get whatever you’d like, Myungjun.”

Myungjun looked unsure. He shifted in his seat and shrugged his shoulders. “I...I don’t know, Jinwoo, I’d feel really weird making you pay for any of this.”

“I promise-” Jinwoo was interrupted by the appearance of their waiter, who poured them each a glass of wine before leaving it at their table with a nice smile. He asked if they wanted anything, and Jinwoo murmured, “Give us a minute, please, we’re still deciding.”

Myungjun waited until the waiter left to say anything else, and he leaned in and whispered, “I’m not kidding, I really don’t feel comfortable spending this sort of money. The bill will be over 100,000 won. For a simple dinner, this is-”

“It’s not a simple dinner. It’s...it’s important, because we’re back together again. I wanted this to be special.”

Myungjun sighed and leaned back in his chair. “When have we ever done something like this? It feels like...it just feels weird. It’s not like  _ us _ . Our dates have been simple and I’ve had so much fun - bowling with you was the best date ever, and even when I got bruised ice-skating, I still loved it. This is awkward, Jinwoo, and it’s stuffy, and I’m not comfortable with the price of the meal.”

Jinwoo decided against mentioning everything else he had planned just outside the restaurant. That would really cause Myungjun discomfort, and he never wanted their relationship to turn into  _ this _ . He did have fun when they were hanging out and spending money on cheap food and entertainment. He did feel obligated to behave a certain way in this sort of establishment, though.

He was pretending to be something he wasn’t, yet again.

“Let’s go,” he blurted out, standing from his seat.

Myungjun looked up at him in surprise. “Excuse me?”

“I won’t have fun unless you’re comfortable.” He held out his hand and offered Myungjun a smile. “Besides, there’s a park with a playground a little further away from here that I think might be enjoyable.”

Myungjun glanced over at the expensive wine on their table, then over at the pretty view of the city. He didn’t hesitate for too long before scrambling up from his seat and taking Jinwoo’s hand, a large grin taking over his expression. “I do like playgrounds,” he commented.

Jinwoo dragged him out of the restaurant, ignoring the questions from the staff. Myungjun giggled all the while, and allowed Jinwoo the chance to open the car door for him. “After you, sir,” Jinwoo teased.

Myungjun bowed and then sat down in his seat. He laughed as Jinwoo drove away, glancing behind him every so often at the restaurant that was quickly disappearing from view. “I bet they’re confused!” he exclaimed. “That hostess was rude, anyway. So what if I’m dating a boy - why should she care?”

“Some people don’t understand, I guess.”

“They  _ should _ understand.” Myungjun was much less used to people attacking him for homosexuality, it seemed. Jinwoo had already been exposed to it with his gang. They treated it as an illness akin to the plague, and so he had learned to hide it, or else ignore any sort of mocking or jeering. Youngsoo was the kindest concerning Jinwoo’s affection for men, but even he joked about it from time to time. Jinwoo just let it all slide off his shoulders.

Myungjun grew up in a far more loving environment, where his own sexuality was accepted by his family and friends. He was protected from mean words by those around him who cared for him. He had never been in a relationship, anyway, and so he never had any reason to be attacked for who he fell in love with.

Jinwoo wished he could continue to protect Myungjun from mean words or harsh stares. He wished he could always be beside him.

He pulled up at the small playground, parking his car on the street and smiling brightly as Myungjun hurried from the vehicle.

“Look, swings!” Myungjun pointed out. He nudged Jinwoo when the man stood closer beside him, then began to drag him over to the swingset. “We’ve been on these before, haven’t we?”

“We have,” Jinwoo confirmed.

It was far more fun to play on the playground so late in the evening. Despite the chill from the waning days of winter, Jinwoo was enjoying himself. He laughed freely and smiled freely, and even hugged Myungjun tightly at one point.

Myungjun giggled into his neck, then drew back again and whispered, “I’m hungry, though.”

“There’s a food truck close by,” Jinwoo pointed out. “I saw it while we were driving. Why don’t we go see what they’re selling?”

“Mm, let’s!” Myungjun agreed. He practically skipped along Jinwoo, holding his hand in his stupid red mittens. Jinwoo felt like nothing had changed between the two of them, now that they were out of the suffocating air of the fancy restaurant. He felt as if he was on his first date with Myungjun again, when things were slightly weird but mostly magical and wonderful and fun. He felt the excitement brewing in his chest when he realized that  _ now _ their relationship could truly take flight. Now that Jinwoo had explained his life and Myungjun had accepted it, they could be together forever.

They neared the food truck, and Myungjun was excited to see spicy rice cakes. Jinwoo paid, a far cheaper meal than what the restaurant would have entailed, and they ate on a bench situated nearby, watching as people hurried down the sidewalk, most of them stopping to get their own meal from the truck.

The food was delicious, and Jinwoo found it more enjoyable, too, than what else he would have eaten. He fed Myungjun from time to time, holding up a few rice cakes for his boyfriend to eat. Sauce was smeared on Myungjun’s lips, and Jinwoo, feeling daring, leaned forward to kiss it off.

When he drew back, Myungjun’s cheeks were full of food and his eyes were wide with surprise.

“I’m sorry,” Jinwoo muttered, and he cleared his throat. “I just thought...I-I mean, we did it before, and-”

He couldn’t get much else out. Myungjun swallowed his food, then grabbed Jinwoo’s face, bringing it closer to his in order to kiss him. It was a short kiss, chaste and tasting of the spicy sauce from their rice cakes, but Jinwoo felt addicted. He didn’t think he could ever get enough of that, and so he kissed right back until Myungjun broke it with more anxious giggling.

“I’d like to, um, to keep doing it,” Myungjun whispered. “If that’s okay with you.”

It was certainly fine with Jinwoo. It was  _ more _ than fine, and he set his food aside in order to hug Myungjun close to him, planting little kisses all along his face and causing Myungjun to laugh some more.

“You’ll have to get used to this again!” Jinwoo exclaimed, tickling Myungjun’s sides. His boyfriend squealed and made an effort to escape, but Jinwoo kept a tight hold of him.

It was the sort of domestic simplicity that Jinwoo had desperately craved and desperately missed. It was the sweet, pure fun that Myungjun always brought into his life that had become dimmed over the past month.

Now, nothing could stop Jinwoo’s happiness from overflowing. 

When the two men finally stilled, Myungjun tried to stifle his laughter and eat a few more rice cakes. His face was red and he kept jerking slightly whenever Jinwoo feigned toward him in jest.

“I forgot,” Myungjun teased, “that you were an awful person to get in tickle fights with.”

“It’s one of the first things I’ll have to remind you of,” Jinwoo said.

Myungjun’s smile could brighten up the entire evening, and as they stood from their bench, Jinwoo mentioned as such. “I love your smile,” he said, “and I want that to be the first thing you remind  _ me _ of.”

They walked back to the car, hand in hand once more, and Myungjun hummed in response. “To do that, we’ll have to be around each other all the time, probably. At least a lot more than we are now.”

“That’s fine with me.”

Myungjun smiled, and once they reached the car, he stopped Jinwoo. “Take me to your place, then?”

The question came on so suddenly, when they were finally happy, when Jinwoo was finally comfortable. He blinked in confusion, then asked, “What?”

“Show me your place,” Myungjun repeated. “If we want to be around each other even more, I’d...I’d like to see where you live.”

Jinwoo thought of the state his small room had fallen in. It smelled of cigarettes and weed and alcohol. It was stuffy and musty from his nights spent elsewhere. It was barely even a  _ place _ , a house - it was a simple room with a small area for his kitchen and his bed shoved to the side. That was about it.

“I...I don’t know. It’s not really...it’s not great.”

“I told you I would accept whatever you had to offer, Jinwoo, and I would love you no matter what.” Myungjun kissed Jinwoo’s cheek and pushed his body close to Jinwoo’s. “I want to see your house. I don’t care what it’s like. I want to know  _ everything _ , the good and the bad. Please, Jinnie.”

It was the  _ please _ that got him. Jinwoo couldn’t very well deny Myungjun of his desires, nor could he ever reject him. He had to nod finally, to sigh and whisper, “Alright. Alright, we...we can go see it.”

In any case, he thought as they both got into the car, he prayed that Myungjun would stick to his promise and would stay beside him, shining bright and proud, regardless of what he found out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and so our couple lives on - but now what?
> 
> please follow me on my [tumblr](http://www.vonseal.tumblr.com) or on my [twitter](https://twitter.com/nightmjare) (i comment more regularly on twitter now oops)! i'll give spoilers and updates and whatnot on either platform! i also post my update schedule onto twitter, so if you're curious when this fic will release chapter twenty-two and twenty-three, check there!
> 
> also, please take [this little survey](https://goo.gl/forms/GUimh7XhYreKpF7v2) before the end of the year!


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **chapter warnings:** fluff, mention of drugs

The drive to Jinwoo’s apartment was awkward and quiet. Gone was the carefree laughter and smiles that had been brought forth from the date. In its place remained a deadly silence, broken only by the brakes of Jinwoo’s car or else the soft noise of Myungjun clearing his throat. Jinwoo longed for their innocence back, if only for a few seconds, but he could do nothing to try and replicate it all. He stayed silent, more so than Myungjun, chewing anxiously at his lip as he continued to drive.

At a stop light, Myungjun glanced over at him and finally asked, “Is it that bad?”

Jinwoo wasn’t sure what to tell him. How was he supposed to explain that his life was far different from Myungjun’s life? How was he to show just how far he had deteriorated in the past month? “It’s…” he started, trying to think of the correct words. “It’s not, um...it’s not great.”

Myungjun reached out his hand. He held Jinwoo’s hand for a second, resting it on the steering wheel, and offered a small smile. “I told you, Jinwoo, I’d love you no matter what. Didn’t I say that?”

“You did,” Jinwoo responded in a murmur. 

“And that truly means I’ll love you even if you’re keeping rabid raccoons locked up in a closet, or something stupid like that. I mean, I might request you remove the raccoons, but - we’re dating, Jinwoo, and dating means accepting each other despite our flaws. You love me regardless of my flaws, don’t you?”

The light turned green. Jinwoo checked behind him to ensure there were no other cars. He was clear, on the road by himself, and so he continued to sit there. He needed time, anyway, to prepare himself. “You have no flaws,” he responded to Myungjun, staring straight ahead still. “You’re absolutely perfect.”

Myungjun scoffed. “You can think that all you want, but it’s definitely not the truth. I have tons of flaws, babe. More than you’d ever know about, most likely. I broke up with you without truly understanding or listening to your reasoning about your life - that’s a pretty big flaw.”

Jinwoo shook his head. “You had every right to dump me,” he said. “I lied to you.”

“But you had  _ reason _ behind it. You didn’t come to that decision lightly, and I understand that now. It...it was difficult on you.” Myungjun’s hand moved, rubbing up and down Jinwoo’s arm in a comforting manner. “I’m so sorry that I made it difficult.”

Jinwoo hated to hear Myungjun blame himself. That wasn’t what he wanted for their first  _ real _ date. He wanted nothing but warmth and adoration to come forth from their mouths. He didn’t want to play this sort of game where they wondered what they could have done better.

He leaned across his seat and gathered Myungjun’s lips within his own, kissing him deeply. Myungjun sighed into the kiss, completely drawn into the embrace, and when Jinwoo drew back, Myungjun’s eyes were half-lidded and he looked a little dazed.

“Sunshine,” Jinwoo whispered. Myungjun perked up at the familiar nickname, and Jinwoo tapped his nose lightly. “I won’t forgive you when you’ve done nothing wrong.”

The light turned red again. Myungjun’s eyebrows furrowed. “Jinnie, I  _ want _ to apologize-”

“Then wait until you have something to apologize for. Wait until...until maybe one day you burn the noodles because you’re too caught up looking over at me. Wait until you spill hot chocolate on my back again. Wait until you drop a bowling ball on my foot. Wait for a mistake you will make. But don’t apologize now. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Myungjun looked as if he wanted to say more, but Jinwoo kissed him again, taking a hand off the wheel in order to run his fingers through Myungjun’s messy hair.

This time, Myungjun was the one to break the kiss first. He smacked his lips together, then looked over at the traffic light. “Let’s go,” he whispered. “Before I start listing all of the flaws in my life.”

“If you even have any, it’s bound to be a very short list,” Jinwoo teased, but he began to drive anyway. He might as well get the reveal over with. If Myungjun was going to see his place, better it be late at night when they were both exhausted, anyway, before Myungjun would truly think straight about running away from him.

Myungjun snorted, settling back in his seat. “You act like I’m infallible.”

“Does the sun have any imperfections?” Jinwoo asked.

“Sun spots.”

Jinwoo glanced over at Myungjun, who smiled cheekily back at him. “Anyway, Jinnie, you know I’m not the sun, right? I’m just your boyfriend. You’re not actually  _ dating _ the sun.”

“No, but I’m pretty damn close to it.”

He adored seeing the pink rise up in Myungjun’s cheeks. Even in the dark setting of their car, Jinwoo could tell when his boyfriend was flustered. He loved it. He loved every last inch of Myungjun. Even if Myungjun did, somehow, hold some imperfections within him, Jinwoo knew he would still love and cherish all of Myungjun. He would love the flaws just as much, too.

As he pulled into his neighborhood, he chose not to slow his car down too much. If he sped past all of the ugly sights, Myungjun wouldn’t see them until morning. He would explain his situation again when he was less tired and more awake. For now, he just prayed Myungjun didn’t mention the random men smoking beside the convenience store, or the handful of prostitutes who lounged around a bus stop. 

He noticed Myungjun watching it all, however, soaking in every last sight he saw. He noticed the way Myungjun crossed his arms over his chest, body suddenly tense, as his mind processed all of the sights and information.

Still, he said nothing at all until Jinwoo parked the car in front of his apartment building.

It was a smaller complex compared to many along the area, and it was clear it wasn’t in the best of conditions. It was falling apart in some places, and other apartments within the complex looked devastated already. A group of men hung out further down the path, talking loudly, blasting music, and causing a bit of a disturbance. As Myungjun exited the car, he whispered to Jinwoo, “Don’t the neighbors complain?”

Jinwoo was anxious again, and he ushered Myungjun straight to his door. “Those are the neighbors,” he responded, and he opened up his place for Myungjun to stop into.

Once the lights were on, Myungjun was finally able to get a good look around. He stood just in the doorway, eyes drawn first to the bed, messy and unmade and holding only the Pikachu plushie Myungjun had won for him. Perhaps that set things off in the right direction. Myungjun smiled softly at as he slipped his shoes off and placed them tidily by the door.

He stepped in further, scanning the broken dresser and the small fridge. He gave a small  _ tsk _ of his tongue when he noticed dirty dishes piled in the sink and clothes strewn about on the floor. “Not much of a cleaner, are you?” he questioned, shedding himself of his coat. “Where do I put this?”

Jinwoo grabbed it from him, choosing to hang it up in the small closet beside the front door. By the time he had done that and taken off his own shoes, Myungjun was already shuffling over to the sink and looking around for a sponge.

“I use a rag,” Jinwoo commented. He moved to stand beside Myungjun, grabbing the rag from the counter and holding it close to him. “But I didn’t bring you to my place so you could do  _ dishes _ .”

“Well, they won’t get done themselves.” Myungjun swiped the rag away from Jinwoo with a smile. He turned on the water, waiting for it to get hot, and glanced behind him again. “Why  _ is _ it messy? You always seemed clean.”

“I am clean,” Jinwoo defended himself. When Myungjun raised an eyebrow, Jinwoo stammered, “I...I, um, just wasn’t...I wasn’t in a good spot when you broke up with me.”

Myungjun nodded his head and gave a soft, “ah.” He took his mittens off, setting them aside, and asked, “Is that why it, um, it stinks in here? Like...cigarettes and…”

It was weed that he smelled. He knew it, too, and he raised an eyebrow at Jinwoo, as if too embarrassed to say the word for some reason. Jinwoo nodded his head in slight shame, then sighed deeply. “It’s easy to...to fall on familiar vices when...you know. That slight post-relationship depression.”

Myungjun pursed his lips but just shrugged his shoulders in response. “I just ate a bunch of super spicy foods,” he responded. “And made Sanha buy me a bunch of sweets. God, I think I’ve gained at least twenty pounds since that day.”

“Well, you don’t look it,” Jinwoo commented. He smiled, pleased that Myungjun wasn’t hounding him for information concerning his bad habits. 

“You haven’t seen my belly. I’m covering it with layers of shirts and sweaters,” Myungjun replied, slapping a hand across his stomach. “If you saw it, I might lose my sex appeal.’

“What  _ sex appeal? _ ” Jinwoo scoffed.

“Oh, please, you know I’m undeniably sexy!” Myungjun exclaimed. “I have a body from the gods, that’s what I’ve always been told.”

Jinwoo wrapped his arms around Myungjun and planted a kiss on his forehead. “I’ll have to beat up anyone who said that,” he murmured. “Only  _ I’m _ allowed to call you sexy from now on.”

“Noted,” Myungjun agreed. He stuck a finger under the stream of water from the sink before drawing it back hurriedly. “Ooh, it’s hot enough now!” He pulled on the rubber gloves nearby and began to wash the dishes, much to Jinwoo’s amusement.

“Is this what you do during a date?” he asked. “You get invited to your boyfriend’s house to wash all of his dishes?”

Myungjun giggled. It was like sunshine to Jinwoo’s ears, a sound he had dreadfully missed since they broke up. He couldn’t believe he could hear it now forever. He couldn’t believe he could be with Myungjun forever. “When I’m done here, I’m going to do your laundry for you,” Myungjun responded. “Unless you want to get your butt into gear and help out a little.”

It was far from his envisioned plan of a perfect date, but Jinwoo couldn’t stop from smiling. He nodded his head and rolled his eyes in order to seem frustrated, then said, “Sure, sure, I’ll get right to it, Sunshine.”

The next hour was spent cleaning up his apartment a little bit. After Myungjun finished the dishes, he helped Jinwoo with the rest of the laundry, even taking the time to hand wash items he claimed were too fragile to put through a machine. He wiped down the countertops and made the bed and straightened up the fallen picture frame on Jinwoo’s bedside table.

When he picked it up, though, he stared for a few seconds. Jinwoo stood beside him, unhelpfully pointing out, “That’s my mom and me.”

“This is you as a kid?” Myungjun asked. He passed his fingers over Jinwoo’s face and muttered, “Hello, baby Jinnie. You’re going to grow up to become the best boyfriend ever. I hope you’re aware of that.”

Jinwoo felt warmth fill his heart. He loved Myungjun more than he had ever loved anything before. Resting his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder, he said, “Baby Jinnie didn’t even know he liked boys back then.”

“Is it a more recent development, then?” Myungjun asked.

“High school and beyond, honestly.” Jinwoo planted a kiss on Myungjun’s cheek. “I didn’t ever think I’d find a gem like  _ you _ , though.”

“Ooh, don’t try to flatter me right now. We still have a few more things to clean.”

“But it’s midnight!” Jinwoo whined. “And I’m tired!” He tried to be cute, to give Myungjun big doe eyes, but Myungjun just pointed at the picture again and asked, “This is your mom, isn’t she?”

Jinwoo sighed and nodded his head. “Yeah.”

“She’s really pretty,” Myungjun murmured. “She has your tiny eyes, too. It’s really cute.” He set the frame back down on the bedside table, finally, and admired it from his position. “I bet she’s proud of you.”

“Myungjun, my place smells like weed.”

Myungjun turned from the picture and flicked Jinwoo’s forehead with his thumb and pointer finger. “Don’t get smart with me,” he scolded. “I just meant...you turned into a good person. You might do things that aren’t  _ great _ , but...all in all, you really are an amazing, wonderful person deep down. I should know; I feel like I’ve become extremely close to you since we’ve started dating, haven’t I?”

Myungjun had gotten closer to him than anyone else ever would. Myungjun had unraveled so many secrets that no one else ever knew. Myungjun had been the one to truly reveal Jinwoo’s worth for the rest of the world to either accept or sneer at.

Myungjun knew him, through and through.

“You have,” Jinwoo said, nodding his head. “You know me better than anyone else.”

Myungjun smiled, as if pleased with Jinwoo’s response, but he then turned to the next task at hand - Jinwoo’s fridge. “Is this clean?” he asked, opening it and checking inside.

A few of the shelves had small stains from spilled food; otherwise, it was bare.

Almost completely bare.

“What in the world have you been eating?” Myungjun asked in shock. “Jinnie, there’s nothing even here? How are you not just a pile of bones at this point? Do you only eat when I feed you?”

“I’ve been living with Youngsoo for the past month,” Jinwoo responded, shutting the fridge door. “He’s been keeping me fed.” Jinwoo chose not to mention that he hardly ever ate, regardless, too busy wallowing about in the loss of his boyfriend.

Myungjun still looked frustrated, and he nudged his shoulder into Jinwoo’s chest. “I guess I’ll have to take over that role,” he stated. “I can’t have my Jinnie turning into a skeleton on me! I like you just the way you are right now.”

He planted another kiss to Jinwoo’s lips, and Jinwoo sighed happily. “I’ll eat whatever you make for me,” he promised, ruffling Myungjun’s hair. “For now, though, I really should get you home. It’s past midnight, and I-”

“I can sleep here!” Myungjun exclaimed. “I mean, as long as we both wake up early enough to head back to  _ The Star _ for the morning preparations, I really don’t mind it. It’ll save you the long drive back and forth, anyway.”

He plopped down on the bed and smiled before patting the spot beside him.

Jinwoo blinked. He could feel his face flush slightly, and he stammered, “I...I don’t think...we aren’t  _ doing _ anything, are we?”

“No! No, god, um...not tonight.” Myungjun grinned apologetically. “Let’s consider this the first date again, and you know I don’t put out on the first date. I just, um, I just wanted to sleep here. With you. If that’s okay, of course, I don’t  _ have _ to, but I-”

“That’s fine!” Jinwoo assured him. “I have...I have extra pajamas you can wear, so you’re not sleeping in those nice clothes, and I know my bed is small, but we can fit-”

“I curl up like a cat,” Myungjun promised. He hurried from bed and moved to the dresser, rifling through a few drawers as Jinwoo reached instead for the cigarettes placed on top of the dresser. Myungjun glanced at him and Jinwoo muttered, “Can’t quit cold turkey, and I’m an idiot - I got back on cigarettes while...while we were apart, and-”

“That’s fine,” Myungjun assured him. He grabbed his clothes and smiled. “Maybe one day we can get you off of cigarettes, though.”

Jinwoo nodded his head, then grabbed his lighter. “I’ll step out,” he said, “so you don’t have to smell it.”

He thought he could get out by himself, without any arguments, but Myungjun followed him. When Jinwoo stared at him inquisitively, Myungjun shrugged his shoulders and said, “It’s still a date. I want to sit with you.”

“You don’t like cigarette smoke.”

“I like  _ you _ , and I said I’d love you regardless of what you do.” He dumped the pajamas he had chosen back onto the bed and then latched his arm with Jinwoo’s. “Besides, it’s romantic, isn’t it, to sit outside and stare up at the stars together!”

Jinwoo really didn’t think anything about the outside of his apartment space could be called  _ romantic _ . It was dirty, litter tossed in front of random places, some with old trashbags still stuck on the pavement. The men were still being loud and still playing their music. Some of them glanced over at Jinwoo or Myungjun, nudging each other to point them out, but they weren’t approached. The stars weren’t exactly visible, not with how close to the city they were, and Jinwoo was smoking.

It was far from romantic or ideal.

Yet, Myungjun still leaned his head on Jinwoo’s shoulder and curled in close to him as if everything was perfect. As Jinwoo continued to smoke, too, Myungjun craned his neck upwards and planted a kiss on Jinwoo’s lips.

He drew back, nose scrunched. “You really taste like smoke,” he commented.

Jinwoo frowned and tried to push Myungjun’s head away, but Myungjun leaned in for another kiss, deeper this time. He was passionate and sweet, and yet he coughed into Jinwoo the moment he tried to take a breath.

“You don’t have to kiss me right now,” Jinwoo lightly chastised him, smoothing back his hair. “Wait until I’m done smoking.”

“But you look really kissable at the moment!” Myungjun exclaimed. “Your hair is sticking up, and your eyes are serious - I just want to keep on kissing you.”

“You hate smoke,” Jinwoo protested. He took another drag, and once the cigarette was away from his mouth, Myungjun kissed him again.

This time when he coughed, he coughed out a mouthful of smoke, turning his head away just in time so it didn’t all spray Jinwoo. “Sunshine, come on!” Jinwoo complained. He ground his cigarette out - no point in continuing if it would just make Myungjun keep kissing him. “Why would you try to kiss me while I’m smoking?”

Myungjun grimaced, sticking his tongue out as if trying to rid himself of the taste. “Because I said I’d love you no matter what,” he replied, “and maybe that means getting used to kissing you while you smoke.” He looked over at Jinwoo, smiling despite it all, then leaned back into Jinwoo’s touch, hugging him tightly. “If you think I’m perfect, then you’re perfect, too. I won’t change you; I’ll just learn to live with it.”

Jinwoo wanted to protest this, too. He wanted to assure Myungjun that he  _ would _ change, that he’d give up smoking and drinking, that he’d move somewhere better for both their sakes. But he selfishly accepted Myungjun’s love. He knew it was wrong to force his boyfriend to change for  _ him _ , rather than the other way around, but he chose to say nothing.

Myungjun loved him, after all, and even if that love was bound to make the sun turn dim, Jinwoo would say nothing. He greedily took it all.

He would be the one to take Myungjun’s shine from him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> now the goal is for jinwoo to change, but will he reach his goal???
> 
> please follow me on my [tumblr](http://www.vonseal.tumblr.com) or on my [twitter](https://twitter.com/nightmjare) (i comment more regularly on twitter now oops)! i'll give spoilers and updates and whatnot on either platform! i also post my update schedule onto twitter, so if you're curious when this fic will release chapter twenty-three, check there!
> 
> also, please take [this little survey](https://goo.gl/forms/GUimh7XhYreKpF7v2) before the end of the year!


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **chapter warnings:** sexual content
> 
> to skip the sex, please skip the _he wanted it, though_ line, all the way to _myungjun gazed up at jinwoo_. (do ctrl+f to search for these parts)

It was Myungjun who planned their next date.

He claimed he _loved_ Jinwoo’s first date, but he wanted their second date to be even _better_.

(“If you loved the first date so much, then why do you want something _better?_ ” Jinwoo asked.

Myungjun shushed him and fussed, “Don’t argue the semantics.”)

Myungjun had originally meant for it to be a surprise, but the surprise was spoiled when they both realized Jinwoo was the only one with access to a vehicle, and because the venue was too far away for a simple bus trip, Myungjun reluctantly gave Jinwoo the directions.

“It’s no fun this way, now that you know where it is,” Myungjun complained in his seat. He had to set up the coordinates on the GPS, and he’d been sulking ever since. “You got the chance to surprise me, and I was hoping I could do the same thing.”

Jinwoo shrugged his shoulders, making a sharp turn onto a new road. “I was surprised when you entered the coordinates in, Sunshine. Besides, I would have figured it out before we got closer. I might not have ever _been_ to an amusement park, but I at least know where it is.”

He was excited. Even if Myungjun had been unsuccessful in surprising him, he had chosen such a wonderful date. Jinwoo really hadn’t been to an amusement park before. His mother never had money for one as a child, and after she got sick, Jinwoo never had the time or the desire to visit an amusement park. He assumed they were for children; or, at least, that’s what he told himself when he saw the commercials on television or heard stories from other people around him. He could only ever imagine the thrill of a roller coaster, or the anticipation of standing in line for some interesting ride.

“Yeah, but now you’ll be bored of it before we even get there!” Myungjun complained.

“Just how short of an attention span do you think I have?”

Myungjun refused to answer that question. Instead, he just sighed loudly and stared out of his window, drumming his fingers along the side of the door. “It might be a little chilly for the coasters,” he said, “but I still think they would be fun to go on and experience. Are you okay with being cold?”

Jinwoo smiled and patted the pocket of his heavy coat. “I have my favorite gloves,” he responded. “And, besides, _you’re_ the one that gets cold easily. I can handle it just fine.” Before Myungjun could make any move to protest, Jinwoo just hummed devilishly and murmured, “Though, there _are_ ways to warm you up.” He glanced over just in time to see Myungjun blush, and he couldn’t help but laugh at his boyfriend. He was always so cute, always so adorable, and Jinwoo just wanted to smother him with kisses constantly.

“How…” Myungjun cleared his throat and continued, “how far away are we? This car is suffocating me.”

Laughing again, Jinwoo checked the arrival time, and replied, “About twenty minutes. You’re stuck with me for twenty full minutes, babe, so you’d best get used to being teased.”

The rest of the drive was enjoyable. The awkward air that had originally surrounded them upon their return as a couple had vanished. They had learned how to work with each other again, learned what made each other laugh and learned what was off-limits to talk about. It was wonderful, and Jinwoo decided he would never again go back to a life without Myungjun.

He would keep hold of Myungjun no matter what happened.

When he pulled into the amusement park, he first noticed the large coaster, rising up into the sky and sticking out like a sore thumb. He swallowed thickly, but then Myungjun grabbed onto his arm and began to tug him to the front entrance of the park. “I can’t _wait_ to ride that one!” he exclaimed, pointing directly at the coaster of death.

Jinwoo regarded it with terror. “You...like heights?” he asked.

Myungjun nodded. “Sure! I mean, it’s really scary, but that’s what makes it so fun! It’s thrilling and exciting and I can’t _wait_ to ride it with you!” He allowed Jinwoo to pay, then continued to pull him along. “Come on! We’re going to start out with a bang, aren’t we?”

Jinwoo had been expecting an amusement park to be less about _large and scary_ rides, and more about cute and fun ones. There was no reason for a coaster to go so high, was there? Jinwoo knew there were plenty of coasters out in the children’s section that didn’t go high at all but still would offer the same amount of thrill, probably.

“Myungjun,” Jinwoo whined as they neared closer to the front of the line. “What if...what if this ride breaks down? Like, what if it gets stuck at the very top, or something? Or, worse, what if the cars fly off the track? Or what if the restraints aren’t-?”

“Jinny, if you keep thinking like that, you’ll never want to get on it.” Myungjun was not deterred a single bit. “Stop shuffling! We’re going to be in the next car!”

Myungjun wanted to ride up front. Jinwoo refused to do so; they compromised and chose the second cart. It wasn’t as close to the middle as Jinwoo would have preferred, but he would take it as long as it wasn’t either the front or the back, both of which looked equally terrifying.

The moment the restraints were down, Jinwoo grabbed onto Myungjun’s hand and held it tightly. He squeezed his eyes shut and bit down on his lip, ignoring Myungjun’s laughter.

“You have to open your eyes!” Myungjun exclaimed.

“No,” came Jinwoo’s determined response.

Myungjun cooed at him, and even as the ride started, he tried his best to convince Jinwoo to look around at how high up they were. “The people look like _ants_ , Jinny, seriously, this is the coolest!”

Jinwoo was steadfast in his current state, however, and simply shook his head. He could hear the track working, bringing them up closer and closer to the top, and then-

Then they went down, rushing and roaring over a huge hill. Jinwoo’s stomach dropped, and his heart felt as if it had been ripped away and was still somewhere on the top of the track. They spun and took sharp turns and Jinwoo heard Myungjun beside him, screaming in joy all the while.

The ride finally, _finally_ , came to a slow. Jinwoo managed to peek through half-lidded eyes to ensure they were about to get off; to his relief, they were back at the station and the operator was giving them exit instructions.

“Wasn’t that fun?” Myungjun asked, hopping up from his seat. His hair was a mess, windblown and beautiful, and his cheeks were bright pink with lingering enthusiasm and the chill of the winter air. He wrapped his coat tighter around his body before helping Jinwoo step out of the cart. “Did you like it?”

Jinwoo shivered and then asked, quietly, “Can we stay in the kid’s section from now on?”

He didn’t think Myungjun would agree, but his boyfriend accepted Jinwoo’s request in an instant. He nodded, then leaned in to kiss Jinwoo’s cheek. “Sure,” he said. “Sorry if I forced you on that ride.”

“Y-You didn’t. I wanted to experience it with you.” Jinwoo wanted to assure Myungjun that nothing at all was forced, but Myungjun didn’t really look convinced. “Honest, Sunshine, if I truly didn’t want to go on, I would’ve told you.”

“Well…” Myungjun pursed his lips, but ended up simply shrugging his shoulders. “Alright, come on! To the kid’s section!”

Those rides were far more tolerable. Jinwoo didn’t feel fear grip his heart on the merry-go-round or some fast, spinning ride. There was cotton candy, too, which Jinwoo bought instantly. He and Myungjun shared a cone, feeding each other little pieces and giggling all the while.

“I love amusement parks,” Myungjun said, smiling widely as they finally took a seat at a bench. Jinwoo grabbed a cigarette from his pocket and fumbled with the lighter, fingers trembling slightly from the cold. “I used to always come as a kid, you know, but when we moved and I started working more at _The Star_ , I just didn’t have much time.”

“Do you regret it?” Jinwoo asked. He took a long drag, feeling a bit less jittery and more calm after finally having a smoke.

Myungjun shrugged his shoulders. “Regret? No. I _miss_ it, being a kid and living life so carefree, but I enjoy things as they are now.” He glanced over knowingly at Jinwoo, though slight exasperation shone in his gaze upon catching sight of the cigarette. Still, he said nothing - and so Jinwoo wouldn’t stop smoking.

He knew Myungjun disliked his habits. He was well aware of Myungjun’s feelings. But Myungjun said nothing and Jinwoo did nothing. It wasn’t a great way to start their relationship, but Jinwoo felt addicted to his vices. They had comforted him in the time when Myungjun had left.

Now, it seemed, Myungjun loved him too much to ever leave again, and so Jinwoo saw no need to become better. It was bad, it was gross, it was pathetic - and Jinwoo would keep it all in his life.

He sighed, then tore a piece of cotton candy off and pressed it against Myungjun’s lips with a smile. “Open wide,” he teased.

Myungjun took the candy in his mouth, his tongue brushing slightly against the side of Jinwoo’s finger. He grinned apologetically, muttering out a soft, “Sorry, didn’t mean to lick you,” but Jinwoo hadn’t minded at all.

It was sensual, even if Myungjun hadn’t meant for it to be so, and Jinwoo’s longing grew.

They left the park an hour or two later. It was growing dark; the winter nights were long and came early, and Jinwoo knew they had a little bit of a drive ahead of them.

Myungjun was the one who kept the conversation going as they drove back to Jinwoo’s place. He spoke of how much fun he had, how exciting the roller coaster was, how he wanted to try other amusement parks in the area, when they opened in the summertime. Jinwoo nodded along to everything, though his mind was solely on getting home, relaxing a little bit, and then - possibly - more than that.

Myungjun seemed tired when they reached Jinwoo’s house. He ignored the neighbors, who stood around outside passing joints to each other and pretending as if Myungjun and Jinwoo didn’t exist. He also ignored the obvious noise from the apartment beside Jinwoo’s, the loud banging against the walls, and the heavy bass music from somewhere else nearby.

“That was really fun,” Myungjun murmured, slipping his jacket off and hanging it up in Jinwoo’s closet. He spread his arms out in front of him, stretching deeply, then said, “You’ve got me worn out, Jinny. Too much fun makes-”

He wasn’t able to complete his sentence, for in that moment, Jinwoo had embraced him quickly, and then planted a kiss onto his lips. Myungjun made a noise in surprise for a second before accepting Jinwoo’s intrusive affection. He closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around Jinwoo’s waist before smiling. “What brought this on?” he asked.

Jinwoo didn’t want to answer the question. Instead, he kissed Myungjun again, pressing his tongue against Myungjun’s closed lips, tangling a hand in the back of Myungjun’s hair.

Myungjun accepted it all. He asked no other questions; he simply allowed Jinwoo to do what he wished.

They moved to the bed. Jinwoo had to draw away from the kiss in order to silently tug Myungjun’s sweater off of him. The boy hesitated at first before slipping out of the shirt. Jinwoo tossed it aside and his hands caressed Myungjun’s bare chest. Jinwoo felt excitement course through him. He hadn’t ever touched Myungjun in such a way before. He hadn’t ever _seen_ Myungjun in such a way before. Now, though, he was able to engage in such erotic pleasures, and his mind was reeling.

“This is okay, right?” he asked. Myungjun lay on the bed, staring up at him with wide eyes, and Jinwoo swallowed thickly. “You’re okay with this?” he asked again.

Myungjun’s gaze darted to the side, then back up at Jinwoo. “I love you,” he whispered, “and...this is the deepest show of love, isn’t it? Sex is...how we prove to each other how much we care.”

Guilt stirred within Jinwoo’s stomach. He hadn’t thought of it as a sign of love and adoration. He had been a bit turned on, a bit hungry for lewd activities, and he had thought Myungjun was delectable. He hadn’t considered the implications sex would have on their relationship.

By all means, he should have stopped right then and there. He should have waited until they were both ready for it; until he was capable of understanding deep passion, and until Myungjun was far more comfortable with the location and setting.

He wanted it, though, and so he smiled at Myungjun and nodded his head.

“Right,” he whispered.

He trailed his kisses down Myungjun’s chest and to his stomach, toying with his pants all the while. Myungjun accepted everything. He shivered at the touches, and yet he never once denied Jinwoo anything he wished.

As Jinwoo prepped him, Myungjun squeezed his eyes shut. He whimpered in pain once or twice; Jinwoo would stop and kiss Myungjun’s cheeks, quieting him down.

“I-I-I’ve never done this,” he gasped out. He winced when Jinwoo moved his fingers. “Is i-it supposed to…?”

“It hurts at first,” Jinwoo comforted him.

Inside, though, Jinwoo was panicking. He tried to tell himself to stop. They needn’t do this _now_. They should wait until the timing was better, until they had a chance to talk about this step, until Myungjun was clearly more excited and comfortable for it all.

Jinwoo didn’t stop, though. Even as he continued to move, he hated himself all the while. Even as he finally pushed his aching erection inside of Myungjun, even as he finally leaned fully over Myungjun and moaned loudly, he despised himself for taking away his boyfriend’s virginity.

Myungjun accepted it all with shut eyes and a furrowed brow. He clenched at the bedsheets, trying desperately to control his breathing.

In any case, Jinwoo wanted to make the experience as enjoyable for Myungjun as possible. He didn’t move as quickly as he normally would; he took things slower, trying his best to figure out what Myungjun liked.

He was finally able to elicit pants from his boyfriend, gasps of pleasure and exhilaration. A few minutes in, and Myungjun looked less pained. Jinwoo tried to convince himself that Myungjun’s hips coming up to meet his thrusts were a _good_ thing, that it meant Myungjun was comfortable with the entire situation.

Deep down, he knew that was false. He knew he should have waited. He knew he was horrible, horrible, _horrible_.

His body was pleased when all was said and done, though. He hadn’t slept with anyone in such a long time. When he had been with other people, with the one-night stands or the prostitutes on the side of the road, he had always wondered what difference a romantic attraction would make. While Myungjun was certainly what was missing from his life, he still felt dirty and gross.

He felt as if he had forced it all, and so he gathered Myungjun’s sweaty, tired body up in his arms and kissed him softly. “Sorry,” he whispered.

Myungjun gazed up at Jinwoo with droopy eyes. “Why are you sorry?” he asked. His hands ran up and down Jinwoo’s arms. He traced a few of his tattoos, fingers passing over the lewd ones with interest. “I love you, Jinwoo.”

“I love you, too.” Jinwoo kissed him again. “But I’m sorry.” He reached beside him, on the little table beside his bed, hand searching for tissues. As he held Myungjun, he cleaned his chest, wiping it free of white residue.

“No reason to be sorry.” Myungjun ignored the loud music from down the hall. He ignored the smell of cigarettes and weed. He ignored the tiny little room Jinwoo called home, the squeaky bed that he lay on every night, the stains in the ceiling and walls. He just accepted it all, and Jinwoo refused to change.

“Does it hurt to get tattoos?” Myungjun asked. His fingers trailed over to Jinwoo’s biceps. “Or does it hurt more when you get these scars?”

Jinwoo knew they _should_ discuss their sexual relationship. He knew he should ask if Myungjun even liked it. But he didn’t. It was too difficult and, he decided, if Myungjun would accept it all, why should he change?

He was pathetic. He hated himself with every passing minute.

“The scars hurt worse,” he responded. “Those are unexpected. I don’t like things that are unexpected.”

Myungjun hummed in response. He let his fingers continue dancing along Jinwoo’s skin. “Was the roller coaster ride unexpected?”

“I’ll rephrase that - if it’s unexpected but _you’re_ involved, I instantly love it. I love you, Sunshine.”

He could see Myungjun grinning. That was a good sign, wasn’t it?

“I like this tattoo,” Myungjun suddenly whispered. He patted somewhere close to Jinwoo’s heart. Jinwoo needn’t look to know which tattoo had caught his interest. “It’s pretty. It really reminds me of you, too. Is...is that a daffodil?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you like daffodils?”

Jinwoo’s lips were set in a tight line as he tried to think of a response. He wanted to tell the truth, though; if Myungjun accepted him as pathetic and disgusting as he was, he at least owed him a decent reply. “Daffodils are a sign of rebirth. They come in spring, and the sun makes their life start anew. I wanted _something_ to remind me that I might be dead in the winter time, but all I need is sunshine to make my life restart.”

“And...have you found your sunshine?”

Myungjun’s smile was knowing. He waited for Jinwoo’s response with sparkling eyes.

He looked so out of place here. His skin was tanned and soft, void of the rough scars and markings of Jinwoo’s life. Myungjun was clean and spoke well. He was gentle and kind and thoughtful. He was a stark contrast to the dreary setting around him.

Jinwoo’s sunshine was shining its brightest. It worked hard to make the daffodils grow. Jinwoo, however, was a stubborn daffodil, still stuck in the cold, unforgiving winter months. He wouldn’t find a new life yet. He wouldn’t find a new life now.

He had found Sunshine, but he wouldn’t open up.

Instead of responding, he just held Myungjun closer to him, burying his nose into his boyfriend’s hair. He squeezed his eyes shut and breathed in the scent of the man he loved above all else.

Myungjun seemed to understand the silence. He wrapped his arms around Jinwoo. “Let’s run away,” he proposed. “Jinnie, let’s get away from here. We’ll find a little home somewhere to live. I can open up a ramen shop somewhere else. Maybe on the coast somewhere. I love the ocean - seafood ramen is popular, anyway. You can take that camera you bought and actually become a photographer. There are classes you can go to, places to learn, and we’ll live comfortably and never want for anything but each other. You’ll be far away from your gang. We can change your name, maybe. I’ll love you forever and ever.”

It sounded so perfect. He wanted to take that idea and run away with Myungjun. They would rely only on each other.

But Jinwoo found, suddenly, he couldn’t leave. The gang, as awful as it was, as much as it deteriorated his entire life, had become an anchor to him in Myungjun’s absence. He suddenly realized how much he desired things that only _they_ could offer him; he couldn’t give up smoking, he had started taking drugs, and his thrills came not from high roller coasters or fast rides, but from counting out stacks of money and from trading off illegal substances.

He swallowed thickly and kissed the shell of Myungjun’s ear. He wouldn’t run away. If Myungjun could accept his life _here_ , his life in the gang, then he would take that. He was selfish, and he would take Myungjun’s acceptance, and he would never change.

Myungjun sighed, but he didn’t pull back. He curled in closer and muttered, “It’s fine, Jinnie. I was just making a suggestion. You know...you know I’ll love you no matter where we are, right? And if you want to stay here, then I’ll stay right by your side. You know that, right?”

Jinwoo felt sick. “Yeah,” he replied.

He would continue his miserable existence, except now he would bring Myungjun down with him.

He was dimming his own sunshine and he couldn’t stop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jinwoo doesn't change :( 
> 
> please follow me on my [tumblr](http://www.vonseal.tumblr.com) or on my [twitter](https://twitter.com/nightmjare) (i comment more regularly on twitter now oops)! i'll give spoilers and updates and whatnot on either platform! i also post my update schedule onto twitter, so if you're curious when this fic will release chapter twenty-four, check there!
> 
> also, please take [this little survey](https://goo.gl/forms/GUimh7XhYreKpF7v2) before the end of the year!


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **chapter warnings:** mentions of sex, drugs, and smoking, plus language

**In all my dreams, dear, you seem to leave me**  
  
**When I awake my poor heart pains**  
  
**So when you come back and make me happy**  
  
**I'll forgive you dear, I'll take all the blame**

 

“Does my hair look alright?” Jinwoo whispered to Myungjun, for possibly the eleventh time that afternoon. He messed with his hair again, running fingers over it and ensuring that every single strand was in its correct spot. “It doesn’t look too bad?”

Myungjun scoffed and brought Jinwoo closer to him. Their arms were linked as they walked ahead, their bodies now squished tightly together. It was difficult to take a step without nearly tripping over Myungjun’s feet, but Jinwoo went along with the new positions, anyway. He loved Myungjun far too much to back out.

“I’ve told you a thousand times, Jinnie, your hair looks _perfect_. Why do you care so much, anyway? We’re just seeing Bin and Dongmin - it’s not like I’m introducing you to my parents.”

Jinwoo knew that was true, and yet he still felt nervous. Bin and Dongmin were Myungjun’s closest friends in the entire world. They cared for him so much; supposedly, during the time Jinwoo and Myungjun spent apart, Dongmin and Bin allowed him to sleep over at their place and they took him everywhere they could in an effort to make him happy. They were wary, too, of the newly established relationship; Myungjun told him that Bin was adamant that Jinwoo had to get his approval before they could continue dating.

“Your parents like me more than Bin and Dongmin ever will, probably.”

“What’s got you so scared?” Myungjun bumped his hip into Jinwoo’s side. “Dongmin and Bin are very accepting people. Once they get to know you, they’ll really like you!”

Jinwoo’s tongue darted out to wet his lips. He was filled to the brim with nervous anxiety, and he desperately reached into his pockets for his carton of cigarettes. “The only time I’ve met them before was when I was trying to get into Dongmin’s pants,” he mumbled, lighting a cigarette and sticking it into his mouth. “And that’s when they realized I was your boyfriend, the guy who made you so unbelievably sad. I doubt they’ll accept me.”

Myungjun watched Jinwoo smoke without chastising him. It had become a normal occurrence now, and Myungjun just seemed to accept it. He accepted too much, and Jinwoo took advantage of that. Myungjun accepted _everything_ ; he would limp in the morning after sex that was too rough, he would cough and wrinkle his nose at the stench of marijuana, and he would agree to postpone date nights when Jinwoo and his gang had a situation arise.

Jinwoo sometimes felt as if he was using Myungjun for his own pleasure and well-being, but Myungjun always proclaimed his love for him. Myungjun always told him things were perfectly fine the way they were. Myungjun said he was happy.

If Myungjun was happy, why should Jinwoo change?

“I’ve been telling them how wonderful you are, though,” Myungjun stated. He leaned over to kiss Jinwoo’s cheek. It was so sweet and chaste and innocent, and Jinwoo’s heart ached as he glanced over at Myungjun.

He wasn’t wonderful at all. He was terrible. Myungjun was too good for him. He was sunshine that deserved to shine on the other daffodils, the daffodils that _would_ bloom and flourish. Jinwoo, a daffodil hidden in the shadows, wasn’t good enough for Myungjun’s light.

Jinwoo sighed and took a drag on his cigarette. He let the smoke escape in a little puff of breath before muttering, “I don’t think they’ll approve of me. Not after...not after what I did.”

Myunjung pursed his lips. They walked a little slower down the sidewalk, arms hooked together now, even as other people nearby shot them strange looks and glances. Jinwoo ignored it, far too used to it; Myungjun shied closer to him.

“They will approve of you,” Myungjun promised. “I’ve told them that we’ve made up, that you’re so, so good to me. Bin was the one who suggested this, anyway, as a way of getting the chance to know you better!”

If Jinwoo’s memory served him correctly, Bin was the man who was angrier and meaner than Dongmin. Bin suggesting a hang-out was a bit unnerving, and Jinwoo glanced over at his boyfriend. “Sunshine, he wants to test me, you know.”

“I’m not an idiot; I know that.” Myungjun rolled his eyes. He clung to Jinwoo’s arm, even as people avoided them completely along the sidewalk. He stared straight ahead, jaw tight, as he shuffled along with Jinwoo. “You’re a good person, though, so even if he does test you, you’ll pass whatever stupid test he has, okay? You’ll leave a great impression on them, and they’ll love you as much as I do!” He smiled, a little tightly, and muttered, “Well, not _as_ much, but you understand.”

Jinwoo understood, but he thought Myungjun might be wrong. There was no way that Bin would ever like him. He already knew from the way Bin had spoken about him that one stupid, drunken night, and from the way Bin had willingly invited him over now.

Myungjun, though, was determined to get the approval of his friends, and so Jinwoo knew he would have to suck it up and deal with it.

He steeled himself, and as they arrived at the bowling alley, he hardened his resolve and didn’t hesitate once in entering the building.

Myungjun was impressed. “I didn’t think you wanted to do this,” he muttered after Jinwoo had tossed his cigarette and popped some gum in his mouth. “What changed your mind?”

Jinwoo, smacking and chewing on his gum, answered, “I love you, and I just need to prove to them that I’ll never hurt you again.”

The smile Myungjun gave was so sweet and serene. Jinwoo truly loved Myungjun more than anyone, but he also knew he didn’t treat Myungjun as well as he should. If he wasn’t so selfish, he would change his life around. He would work harder to pay off his debts to the gang and to leave. He would quit cigarettes and drugs. He would move elsewhere, somewhere nice and comfortable. He would treat Myungjun with more respect and adoration.

Instead, he felt satisfied enough with his vices, and Myungjun never asked for him to change. If Myungjun wouldn’t ask, then Jinwoo wouldn’t change, though he knew he should.

He took Myungjun’s love and acceptance for granted. He knew he did, and yet he did nothing about it. He wondered if Bin would be able to see him for who he was, or if he, too, would accept Jinwoo without much question.

“I see them!” Myungjun whispered, and he straightened out Jinwoo’s hair a bit. “You look so handsome! Bin’s going to be speechless when he sees you!”

Bin wasn’t speechless at all. Dongmin seemed fine, smiling and bowing his head in greeting, but Bin crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Jinwoo.

“Glad to see he isn’t wasted and trying to sleep with Dongmin,” Bin grumbled. Dongmin nudged him lightly and made a face. “What?” Bin asked. “ _You_ were saying how you didn’t trust him, too.”

Jinwoo felt his heart drop. His confidence scattered away from him, leaving him a vulnerable, nervous wreck.

“I apologize for my behavior that night,” he stated, bowing deeply to the both of them. “And...and I apologize for ever hurting Myungjun’s feelings in the first place. I shouldn’t have done that - either of those things, honestly. I hope you can find it in yourselves to for-”

“How _did_ you hurt Myungjun, anyway?” Bin questioned him. Jinwoo glanced up as Bin continued speaking. “He never told us, but he was miserable - you cheated, didn’t you?”

Myungjun huffed angrily and stepped between Jinwoo and Bin. “Stop it,” he scolded Bin. “I just wanted to come here and bowl with you two - Jinwoo did, as well. You don’t have to be a jerk, Bin. He hurt me by lying to me about stuff, but we’ve worked it out now, okay? I’ve told you this _so_ many times-”

“I don’t trust him. If he hurt you once, he can hurt you again.”

“I won’t,” Jinwoo assured Bin, shaking his head. He grabbed onto Myungjun’s hand and held it against his chest, squeezing it tightly. “I swear, I won’t ever hurt him. I love him far too much. I’ll never stop loving him, and so I’ll never, _ever_ hurt him.”

Bin didn’t look convinced, but Dongmin gave Jinwoo and Myungjun a soft smile and gestured over to the bowling lanes they had reserved. “Let’s just play for a bit before we really get into things,” he suggested.

Dongmin seemed to be a nice voice of reason. Bland as he was, Jinwoo was far more drawn to Dongmin than he was to Bin. Myungjun had told him, too, before they had come to the bowling alley, that Dongmin was far more likely to accept the relationship without any difficulties. He forgave easier, according to Myungjun.

Bin, it appeared, was far more difficult to crack open. He was stoic most of the time, shooting nasty looks to Jinwoo every so often (even more so when Jinwoo managed to bowl a higher score than him). He would make comments from time to time, too, whispering to an uncomfortable Dongmin, “I’d never lie to you, at least,” or else telling Myungjun, “ _When_ he hurts you again, you should just come to me.”

It was wearing down on Jinwoo’s psyche. He already knew he was worthless and terrible; hearing it spoken by someone Myungjun respected really did get to him. After a few times bowling, after a few times having to endure Bin’s words, he finally excused himself. He kissed Myungjun’s cheek and murmured, “I’m going to step outside for a bit.”

Myungjun looked worried. “I’m so sorry,” he apologized for Bin. “I didn’t know he’d-”

“Yeah, well, I don’t want to keep hearing it.” Jinwoo bit down on his lip and shrugged his shoulders. “I already feel worthless; I already _know_ I’m worthless. I just hate hearing it.”

He ignored the pity on Myungjun’s expression and instead turned and hurried off, back outside again where he leaned up against the brick wall of the building, watching people walk by and fumbling with his cigarette case.

The air was a bit warmer now. Not warm enough for him to have to wear short-sleeves yet, thank goodness, but spring was to be arriving soon. The breeze that hit him was crisp and slightly chilly, but nothing compared to the dreary weather of winter.

Jinwoo had hoped that with Myungjun by his side, he could welcome spring with nothing but happiness and joy in his heart. Instead, he felt just as miserable as he had before. He was plagued with knowledge of his wrongdoings, both in the past and in the current times. He wasn’t _good_ , and yet hearing it made him upset.

“I’m fucking pathetic,” he whispered to himself as he smoked. “God, I’m a pitiful jackass.”

“You are,” a voice answered.

Jinwoo jumped and spun around, now face-to-face with Bin. Bin stared at his cigarette with disinterest, smiling only slightly when Jinwoo panicked and put it out against the side of the building.

“What are you doing out here?” he asked.

Bin shrugged. “Myungjun demanded that I come to talk to you. Said it was my fault I was ruining this double-date. See, I hadn’t _meant_ for it to be a double-date, he just made it into one. I was actually going to be the third-wheel, just to see how well you treated him, but Myungjun invited Dongmin because he wanted something cute and special.”

Myungjun was perfect. Jinwoo was reminded again that they ought not to be dating; he was tainting Myungjun’s perfection.

“Why are you ruining Myungjun’s date plans, then, by being an ass?” Jinwoo mumbled. He tossed his cigarette aside and tousled his hair, ruining the lovely style Myungjun managed to help him achieve.

“I don’t trust you one bit,” was Bin’s response. “You hurt Myungjun, and now you’re out here smoking - does he _know_ you smoke?”

“Of course he does,” Jinwoo scoffed. “We’re around each other constantly.”

Bin raised his eyebrows. “He isn’t fond of smoking.”

“I know.”

“Then why do you do it, if you know?”

Bin’s question caught Jinwoo off guard. The boy glanced over at Bin, who just seemed inquisitive rather than spiteful. He looked curious. “If he hates it and you _know_ he hates it, why in the hell would you continue doing it?”

Jinwoo had no answer for him. He had asked himself the exact same question, after all, and he was still unable to provide the words to explain his actions. Why _did_ he do things Myungjun clearly hated? Why _did_ he smoke and drink and engage in unlawful activity? Why couldn’t he just devote himself fully and completely to Myungjun, as he ought to?

He swallowed thickly and looked away.

Bin sighed loudly and said, “This is why I don’t trust you. You know that, right?”

“Yeah,” Jinwoo managed to croak out, ashamed of himself. He ducked his head into his chest, his lips tightened in a thin line. “I...want to stop,” he promised. “I _will_ , soon, I will, and I’ll do everything possible to make myself better for Myungjun. He deserves nothing but the best.”

“You’re damn right he does,” Bin agreed. He crossed his arms over his chest and peered over curiously at Jinwoo. “Do you give him the best?”

Once more, Jinwoo had no answer for him.

“Who are you, Jinwoo? Originally, Myungjun told us you were a photographer, but he hasn’t mentioned anything about what you do since the two of you broke up. _Are_ you a photographer?”

For some reason, Jinwoo couldn’t lie very well to Bin. The man had piercing eyes that seemed to look right into Jinwoo’s soul; even if Jinwoo tried to fib a little bit, he was certain that Bin would notice.

It was funny; he could lie to Myungjun, but not to Bin.

Self-hate lurked within him.

“No,” he answered Bin, looking away.

“What are you, then?”

“It’s getting cold,” Jinwoo mumbled, stepping toward Bin. “Why don’t we head back inside?”

“Are you, like, a criminal or something?” Bin asked. “You don’t want to tell me who you are, and Myungjun doesn’t want to talk about who you are - do you do bad things?”

Jinwoo didn’t respond, but perhaps that was a response in and of itself. Bin seemed to understand, and he cursed under his breath before taking a step away from Jinwoo, cautious and unsure.

“And Myungjun _knows?_ ” Bin tried to confirm. “He _knows_ you’re some sort of criminal?”

“I don’t want to get into this right now,” Jinwoo argued, and he glanced up at Bin, pleading, “Can we just drop this and go back inside? I know you’ll say I’m not good enough for Myungjun, and I’m _not_ . I know that more than anyone. I should...I should stay away, right? I should leave him alone, because he deserves someone as pure and as bright as he is. I just can’t do that. I’ve tried. I’ve tried so goddamn hard, and I can’t stay away from him. He brings out the best in me, and I’m so in love with him that it hurts inside to even _think_ about being apart.” Jinwoo took a deep breath. “I will get better. I want to get better, for him. I just...I can’t do it right now. I have...I have debts to pay off at the moment.”

It was an excuse. His debt, his _stupid_ debt, shouldn’t dictate what he did. He could easily give up his drugs and cigarettes. He could find a new job that paid good money and start slowly paying off the people he owed money to. He could refrain from all sorts of criminal or illegal behavior and work towards living a _good_ life, an honest life.

He was just an addict at this point, too frightened to ever leave the life he had known for years, the life that molded him from a teenager into a man.

He stuck with that excuse, though. He cleared his throat and stared at Bin with steely determination, and he said, “I’ll be a better person for Myungjun. I swear it.”

Bin, fortunately, couldn’t see through that lie. He accepted it with a brief smile and nod of his head. “That’s all I want to hear,” he replied. “I just really care for Myungjun, you know? He deserves the best.”

“I’ll give him nothing but the best.”

He truly was a pathetic and pitiful jackass. He made Bin like him, if only a bit. He caused relief inside of Bin with his horrible, terrible lie.

Myungjun was happy the two of them were now okay with each other. He bragged as much after the date was completed and he was walking back down the sidewalk with Jinwoo. “I knew Bin would end up loving you,” he boasted. “I _knew_ it! There’s no way anyone could ever hate you. You’re the absolute best, Jinny!”

Jinwoo knew he wasn’t, but he didn’t want to change Myungjun’s mind. He wanted Myungjun to love him enough to overlook all of his flaws.

“We should move in together!” Myungjun suddenly blurted out.

Jinwoo stopped in his tracks and stared at him. “What?”

“Well…” Myungjun smiled shyly. “Bin likes you, and...that’s all I really wanted. Everyone important in my life _likes_ you. My parents, Sanha, Bin and Dongmin - they all approve of our relationship. The next step, then, would be to move in together, and since you live on your own, I want to move in with _you_.”

Jinwoo blinked, still floored with surprise, and Myungjun laughed at his shock. “It’s not like it’ll be much different,” he teased. “I’m with you practically all the time, anyway. We...we sleep together a lot, don’t we? So it’ll be just...just like that, except I won’t have to keep borrowing your clothes. I mean, I’ll still _want_ to keep borrowing your clothes, but, you know, it won’t be a necessity.”

“You’ll be far away from _The Star_ ,” Jinwoo pointed out. “And...and from your family. Didn’t you want to be close to them?”

Myungjun stuck out his bottom lower lip in a pout. “I want to be with you,” he whined. “I can wake up earlier to get to _The Star_ on time, and I can visit family while I work, but it sucks going home sometimes without you. I don’t want to keep doing that.” He plastered himself into Jinwoo’s side and fluttered his eyelashes up at him. “Please say yes, Jinny.”

It was hard to say no to Myungjun; it was even harder to say no to himself. Jinwoo _wanted_ this blissful life of domesticity. He always had, and he only wanted it now if it was Myungjun by his side. He knew, deep down, he ought to say no in order to preserve whatever was left of Myungjun’s sunshine, and yet-

“Of course,” he whispered, and Myungjun grinned wider than Jinwoo had ever seen before.

He wondered how much longer Myungjun would take him for. He wondered when the Sunshine would finally leave him to wallow in his eternal winter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so we meet the "parents" - formally. and mj and jinjin are now roomies.
> 
> but now what will happen next? :O
> 
> please follow me on my [tumblr](http://www.vonseal.tumblr.com) or on my [twitter](https://twitter.com/thevonseal) (i comment more regularly on twitter now oops)! i'll give spoilers and updates and whatnot on either platform! i also post my update schedule onto twitter, so if you're curious when this fic will release chapter twenty-five, check there!


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **chapter warnings:** sexual content, language, mention of drugs
> 
> to skip the sex, please skip the _oh, i think i'm doing plenty_ line, all the way to _youngsoo noticed him_. (do ctrl+f to search for these parts)

Myungjun didn’t bring too much with him when he moved in to Jinwoo’s house. He had a few bags, mostly of his clothes and toiletries, but that was it. Jinwoo was a little impressed they could both carry them on the bus. “We didn’t even need to borrow my friend’s car for this,” he murmured.

“I told you!” Myungjun exclaimed. He looked pleased with himself, as if his lack of possessions was something to be proud of.

However, Jinwoo understood why Myungjun wasn’t bringing much with him. There was no room for furniture, after all; other than that, Jinwoo had everything necessary. He had a bed, and a few kitchen utensils, and blankets. That was all they needed to survive; or so Myungjun told him, anyway. Jinwoo wouldn’t dispute it.

When they arrived to Jinwoo’s tiny room, Myungjun instantly took the responsibility of unpacking his clothes. He told Jinwoo he didn’t need any help, and he hung things up or else folded them and stuck them away in the dresser. It took him less time to unpack than it did to pack, and by the time he was done, Jinwoo was still working on dinner.

“It smells good,” Myungjun whispered, wrapping his arms around Jinwoo’s waist. He tucked his chin into Jinwoo’s neck, staring over at the food Jinwoo was cooking on his small burner.

“Probably not as good as whatever you could cook,” Jinwoo responded. He smiled softly when Myungjun planted a kiss onto his cheek. He was excited about the prospect of starting a domestic life with Myungjun. Once he paid off his debts, once he moved somewhere better, he could happily come home to a man who would hold him - just like this - and love him - just like this. 

Of course, there was the  _ current _ issue of not giving Myungjun all that he deserved. Jinwoo’s excitement was short-lived as they sat on the bed, cross-legged, to eat their meal in mismatched bowls with old cutlery. Jinwoo stared at Myungjun as the boy shoveled food into his mouth, then glanced around at his room.

Once more, he was reminded that he shouldn’t have allowed Myungjun to move in so soon. He should have waited until he was debt-free and clean. Living with Myungjun like this hadn’t been a part of his dream.

He had wanted to embrace the sun. He had wanted to bloom and blossom and grow into a new life. Instead, he had dragged the sun down to Earth and left it to wallow amongst the weeds and dying plants around him.

Jinwoo swallowed thickly, then gave a start when he heard Myungjun ask, “Are you not hungry?”

He glanced at his boyfriend. “Huh?”

“You’re not eating,” Myungjun said, pointing over at Jinwoo’s full bowl of rice. “Is something the matter?”

Jinwoo shook his head and offered Myungjun a small smile. “No. Just lost in thought.”

“Don’t get lost too hard. Before we go to sleep tonight, I was going to show you this really amazing documentary! It’s all about a murderer, which sounds  _ awful _ for our first night living together, and in this place…” Myungjun trailed off, his eyebrows furrowed in thought as he considered his words. He shook his head after a few seconds, then mumbled, “No. Bad choice, isn’t it? We need something more romantic than that.”

Of course,  _ in this place _ a documentary about murder wouldn’t allow them any sort of relaxation.

Jinwoo ate a bit of his rice, then shrugged his shoulders. “We can find something,” he responded. “Some...some movie, or...or something like that.” He eyed Myungjun cautiously, and added, “Or...there’s other romantic things we can do.”

His words left Myungjun blushing and quiet.

As they finished eating, Jinwoo was shocked when Myungjun made the first move. He set aside his bowl of food and scooted closer to Jinwoo, planting a small kiss on his cheek. When Jinwoo didn’t reject the affection, Myungjun continued to pepper kisses all along Jinwoo’s face, before finally grabbing his bowl - still mostly full - to push onto the little bedside table.

With the food now out of the way, it left Jinwoo open and available to receive more kisses from Myungjun. He turned his body, meeting Myungjun’s lovely and delicious lips within his own. His boyfriend hummed into the kiss, wrapping his arms around Jinwoo’s neck as he was slowly lowered into the bed.

No words were needed to understand where things were headed. Jinwoo, always desiring consent, glanced down at Myungjun, who simply smiled up at him and nodded his head. That was good enough, and Jinwoo bent back down to kiss Myungjun once again. Myungjun tasted like the rice they ate, and like the chapstick he had to borrow from Jinwoo earlier that evening. Jinwoo craved it all, craved to taste only Myungjun, and so he deepened the kiss as his hands trailed down Myungjun’s back.

Myungjun was submissive, easily caving to Jinwoo’s desires. He lifted his hips up, allowing Jinwoo better access to squeeze at his backside. Jinwoo felt the plump skin underneath the clothes, and he longed to feel  _ more _ .

Unceremoniously, he pulled down Myungjun’s pants and tossed them aside. As they kissed, he played with the band of Myungjun’s underwear, fingers dipping in and out, coyly teasing his boyfriend, until Myungjun had enough of that. He whined, loud and heavy, into the kiss, gripping onto Jinwoo’s shirt.

“Are you okay, baby?” Jinwoo asked, mock concern dripping from his words. “Did I do something wrong?” He took his fingers away from Myungjun’s underwear, and Myungjun glared at him. His face was flushed and his lips were red and puffy. It was clear he was turned on, and Jinwoo smirked, propping himself up on an elbow to stare down at him.

“Why did you stop?” Myungjun asked.

Jinwoo shrugged. “You were whining. Something has you displeased.”

“I’m  _ displeased _ because you’re not... _ doing _ anything.”

“Oh, I think I’m doing plenty,” Jinwoo responded, and as if to prove his point, his hand cupped around Myungjun’s erection, clothed behind fabric.

Myungjun jerked upwards into Jinwoo’s hand, then pulled him back down, kissing him heavily again.

Jinwoo didn’t want to tease any longer. Myungjun’s body was hot against his own and his lips were wet as they moved against Jinwoo’s mouth. He was so desirable in that moment, and Jinwoo wasted no time in pulling off Myungjun’s shirt and, finally, pulling down his underwear.

Naked and vulnerable, Myungjun was the epitome of perfection. Jinwoo longed for nothing more than to lavish his boyfriend with love and pleasure. He trailed his kisses down Myungjun’s neck, sucking on the skin long and hard enough to leave bruises. His handiwork was admirable, and he poked each little mark forming against Myungjun’s skin before continuing his descent down. He planted kisses across Myungjun’s chest, all over his stomach, and against his hips. Myungjun breathed harshly, in and out, in and out, and Jinwoo delighted in the knowledge that Myungjun felt this way before of  _ him _ .

Only he could bring about such emotions within Myungjun, and he grinned as he lifted Myungjun’s legs up and pulled the older boy closer to him.

Myungjun’s legs instantly wrapped around Jinwoo’s waist, holding himself still as he reached over to grip onto bedsheets. Jinwoo felt warmth in his stomach as he stared down at Myungjun’s erection. He licked his lips once before bending over and taking the member within his mouth, giving no warning of his intentions. Myungjun gasped and jerked upwards, but Jinwoo’s hands held his hips down in place as he bobbed his head up and down.

Lost in pleasure and lust, Jinwoo didn’t hear the knocking at his door. He  _ did _ , however, hear a voice suddenly exclaim, “Jinwoo, stop sucking his dick, I’ve got-”

Myungjun screeched then, having heard the voice as well, and he shoved Jinwoo off of him and moved frantically to cover himself under a blanket. Jinwoo, still clothed and a little dazed, blinked at his boyfriend in confusion before swiveling around to see who interrupted him.

“Young...Youngsoo?” he stammered.

Youngsoo grinned, then tapped his lip. “Wipe off that saliva, or...cum, I don’t know what that is.”

Jinwoo swiped the back of his hand against his mouth, then glanced over at Myungjun, who was breathing harshly and trying to hide his face.

Youngsoo noticed him, obviously, and waved a hand lazily. “Hello. Is that Myungjun?”

Jinwoo nodded.

“Oh! You’re back together! Cute.” Youngsoo sat down beside Jinwoo on the bed, depositing a backpack on the floor and not awaiting any sort of welcome. He might have known he wouldn’t receive one if he asked. “I’m glad you’re not still at my place. God, I could only take so much of you getting drunk and high and whining about how much you wanted Myungjun.” He winked over at Myungjun. “He gives good head, doesn’t he? I mean, the whores I saw him with were always satisfied-”

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Jinwoo snapped, shoving Youngsoo up from the bed. “And how the hell did you get in? The door’s locked.”

“It’s locked, but if you swivel the knob a certain way then push your finger into the little crack, you can actually unlock it pretty easily. Might want to get that looked at.”

Jinwoo stared at him. He wished he didn’t have any friends. “How did you figure that out?”

“When you were all mopey and I had to bring you home sometimes, you were too drunk to even have a key on you, so it took a lot of testing and maneuvering before I could get it to work.” He sat down again and shrugged his shoulders before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a bag of weed. “Anyway, I’ve got some important news to tell you.”

Jinwoo sighed, then looked back at Myungjun. His poor boyfriend appeared absolutely humiliated. He pulled the covers up to his chin and was biting nervously at his cheek as he stared down at the sheets.

“Can’t it wait?” Jinwoo asked, turning back to Youngsoo.

“So you can keep fucking a  _ dude? _ ” Youngsoo snorted. He was already beginning to roll a joint, a testament that he would stay for a long time, and he asked, “Want one, Jinwoo?”

Jinwoo shook his head. He was trying to get off of drugs and cigarettes. Myungjun didn’t like them, and even if he never asked for Jinwoo to stop, it was clear he was uncomfortable with it. Bin’s words ran in Jinwoo’s mind, anyway, remembering the question, “Why do you do it if he doesn’t like it?”

He wanted to make changes in his life. He would stop drinking and smoking, first and foremost, and perhaps he could soon pay off his debt and move into a better place. He would make himself into a person Myungjun could be proud of. He would make himself into a person  _ he _ could be proud of.

Youngsoo didn’t seem too upset that Jinwoo rejected his weed. He shrugged again and began to smoke. “Taewoong is gone,” he blurted out.

“What do you mean,  _ gone? _ ”

Youngsoo grinned and puffed on his joint. “I mean, he’s gone. Got himself into a shit-load of trouble. He was apparently screwing around with some slut. Nothing serious, he assured me. She got pregnant. Taewoong told her not to keep it, but she decided that, not only  _ would _ she keep it, but she also told her  _ actual _ boyfriend all about her little escapades with Taewoong. Her boyfriend is a member of some underground gang. Buk-Moon-Pa. He’s pissed and he went after Taewoong to kill him or something, so Taewoong had to flee the city. He’s hiding out in Seoul right now, in the Dongjak District.”

Jinwoo let the words soak in, and he asked, “If...if Taewoong is gone, that means...do I owe him anything?”

“Nope!” Youngsoo looked giddy. “I mean, I doubt it. He’s in too much shit to actually uphold any payments. He also told me as long as I kept quiet about everything, he’d absolve us of our debt.”

Jinwoo didn’t want to point out that Youngsoo  _ didn’t _ keep quiet. He just nodded his head, already feeling happiness rise up inside of him. Without  _ that _ particular debt to pay off, he could now focus on his main debt, on the more expensive one.

“I’ve got even better news.” Youngsoo grinned and grabbed his backpack. He opened it up and pulled out a few small plastic bags, filled heavily with something white. 

“What’s...this?” Jinwoo asked, but as he grabbed onto one of the bags, he realized what he was holding. “Shit, Youngsoo, is this cocaine?”

Youngsoo nodded proudly. “A lot of it, too,” he replied. “Over thirteen million won worth of cocaine.”

Jinwoo ran his fingers through his hair in disbelief. “Was this all Taewoong’s? Are you expecting me to start snorting it?”

“No, it’s nothing like that!” Youngsoo took the bag away from Jinwoo and stuffed it away in his backpack. “Taewoong managed to score himself a job with the CEO of Yoohun Company. He wanted over three hundred grams of pure cocaine, and Taewoong managed to gather it all, but now that he’s in hiding, he can’t do anything about it. He asked if I could deliver it and send him half of the money, but  _ I’m _ not the one in debt - you are.”

His heart raced. He took a breath, then asked, “So you...you want me to deliver cocaine to-to the CEO of a major company down in Seoul?”

“If you want enough money to quickly pay off your debt, and  _ then _ some extra,” Youngsoo replied. “I mean, if not, I can definitely take this and deliver it myself. I’ll move into Seoul, too, in a high-rise apartment with anything I want-”

Youngsoo moved to stand, bringing the backpack with him, but Jinwoo lunged at the last second and snatched the backpack away. He ignored the smirk on Youngsoo’s face as the man blew more smoke into his apartment.

“I figured you would be desperate enough,” Youngsoo teased. He released the backpack, giving it fully to Jinwoo. “I should be headed back home, anyway. And it looks like  _ you _ were a little busy on your fuck-buddy over there-”

“Get out,” Jinwoo snapped, shoving the backpack under his bed. 

Youngsoo laughed and nodded his head. “He expects them tomorrow, around ten in the morning. I’ll text you his home address. Tell me how it goes, Jinwoo!” he exclaimed as he stepped outside of the apartment. Jinwoo shut the door behind him, jiggling the knob in an effort to test out the lock, but he stopped once he heard Myungjun’s voice.

“Are...are you really going to sell  _ cocaine? _ ”

Jinwoo glanced behind him. Myungjun had peeked out from his cocoon, shifting nervously under his blanket. 

“It’s good money,” Jinwoo defended himself. He figured he could work on the lock tomorrow at some point. For now, he made his way back to the bed, plopping down beside Myungjun and bringing him close. “With all the money I can get from this, I won’t have to keep searching for odd jobs here and there to pay off my debt. I can pay it off  _ instantly _ . I’ll deliver the drugs tomorrow, and then I’ll stop by the gang leader’s place to give him all that I owe, and then...god, Sunshine, we can move out of this hellhole. We can find somewhere nicer, closer to your family and  _ The Star _ . We’ll have enough left to buy brand new furnishings, too, so we won’t have a squeaky bed or a tiny television anymore. I can-I can make something of my life. I won’t continue to drag you into this mess I’m in, either.”

Myungjun wet his lips. He didn’t look entirely convinced. “Jinwoo, it’s...cocaine. What if you get caught? What if you go to jail for this? I’d rather continue living here than have you go to jail. At least here I get to see you.”

Jinwoo planted a kiss onto Myungjun’s forehead. “I won’t go to jail,” he promised in a whisper. “No one will know I have drugs. I’ll keep them hidden until I meet up with the CEO, and then I’ll be right back home. It won’t take long, I swear it. No one will ever know what I did, and we can live safely and happily together.”

With a sigh, Myungjun leaned into Jinwoo’s touch. Jinwoo ran his hand up and down Myungjun’s bare back, awaiting his answer with anticipation. If Myungjun still was too uncomfortable to agree, then Jinwoo would make Youngsoo take the bag away, and they would continue living in the tiny apartment, and Jinwoo would spend the rest of his life trying to pay off the huge debt he owed. He  _ wanted _ Myungjun to agree, so bad, because then he could finally become a good boyfriend. He could become a good  _ person _ if he was away from the gang.

“Okay,” Myungjun muttered suddenly.

Jinwoo glanced down at him in shock. “You mean it?” he asked, eyes wide. “Okay? I can do it?”

“As long as-as you make sure you’re careful and you don’t get caught,” Myungjun replied. He glanced up at Jinwoo; though he still looked unsure, he smiled. “Then we’ll move back into town, right? And-and we can be near my family?”

Jinwoo nodded his head in excitement. “Yes! Of course!”

“And you will renounce the gang, won’t you? And you’ll...you’ll stop, um, smoking and doing drugs?”

That was the first time Myungjun had ever requested a change within Jinwoo. It caught him off-guard, and he blinked once before nodding his head again. “Of course,” he repeated. It made Myungjun uncomfortable, and he was always fully aware it made Myungjun uncomfortable, but the verbal confirmation caused such guilt to rise up within Jinwoo’s stomach. “Myungjun, I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

Myungjun shushed him, placing a finger up against his lips. “Don’t apologize. Just...let’s just focus on finally making a great life together, okay?”

Jinwoo loved Myungjun more than anything. He couldn’t believe life had granted him with such a wonderful person to call his own. He kissed Myungjun, then said, “Starting tomorrow, I’ll do everything right from now on, Sunshine. I’ll make you so proud of me.”

Myungjun giggled and pulled back. “You don’t have to wait until tomorrow, though. If you just continue what you were doing earlier, I’d be proud of you.”

“You’re desperate,” Jinwoo teased. He felt as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, as if his burdens had just disappeared. Tomorrow, things would be fine. Tomorrow, he could finally begin to open up as a daffodil. Myungjun would return to his rightful place in the sky, shining down, and Jinwoo could find his rebirth.

“I love you,” he said, as he pushed the covers down and returned to his spot between Myungjun’s legs. When he glanced up, Myungjun was grinning, just as giddy as Jinwoo was.

“I love you,” Myungjun replied to him. “And I’m proud of you.”

That was all Jinwoo ever wanted, and he was certain it was all he would ever need.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so now there's the question of "will jinwoo be able to sell it and change or...?" lol you will have to wait until next week ;D
> 
> please follow me on my [twitter](https://twitter.com/thevonseal) i'll give spoilers and updates and whatnot there! i also post my update schedule onto twitter, so if you're curious when this fic will release chapter twenty-six, check there!


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **chapter warnings:** language, violence, homophobic language

“That looks wonderful!” Jinwoo exclaimed, gazing upon his chest in the mirror. He admired the little tattooed daffodil, and now the newest addition of the little sun, shining brightly above it. Now, he could have a piece of Myungjun forever ingrained on him. His final tattoo would be solely dedicated to his own personal Sunshine, and he couldn’t think of a better way to end this chapter of his life as he started on his new journey.

The drug deal had gone well enough. Jinwoo had been nervous that morning as he prepared to go. “Look inconspicuous,” Myungjun had ordered, smoothing down his hair and gazing into his eyes. “Don’t you  _ dare _ draw attention to yourself. Just pretend you’re a student, and keep the backpack close to you and far away from any dogs or policemen-”

“I’ll be fine, Sunshine,” Jinwoo had responded, though he felt jittery with nerves and anxiety tore apart his mind. Still, he put on a smile and kissed Myungjun sweetly. “I don’t know when I’ll be back. After I hand this bag over, it shouldn’t take too long to  _ get _ the money, but I don’t know how willing the gang leaders will be to just let me leave.”

Myungjun pouted. “If your debt is paid for, there’s no reason for them to force you to stay. You’ll be free to cut ties after you hand over their money.”

“They might not be so lenient,” Jinwoo pointed out. “They’re gang leaders, after all - they want to try and up their numbers in order to face off properly with other gangs.” He sighed, already thinking about the difficulties he would have in convincing the gang leaders to let him go. “I won’t stop, though. Not until I’m free and we can finally start a new life somewhere else.”

Though he still looked worried, Myungjun had smiled, and kissed Jinwoo once more. “I love you, Jinnie,” he murmured.

“Love you, Sunshine.”

The sweet words had stuck with Jinwoo as he rode the bus, first, and then hopped on the train into Seoul. It wasn’t a long journey, but Jinwoo still felt nervous. Only the thought of Myungjun could calm him down, and he continued to take deep breaths when no one was looking, and imagined living somewhere nice with his boyfriend by his side. They would live in an apartment with an actual bedroom and an actual living room. They could get a large kitchen, and a couch, and everything would be new and exciting. He would love wherever they ended up, as long as it was away from his one-room dwelling, and as long as he was with Myungjun.

The train had rolled to a stop, and Jinwoo scurried off, searching on his phone map for the correct location.

He found it, after a bit of searching. It was a large house with a grand yard in front of it. It was beautiful, and Jinwoo felt envy course through him as he made his way to the front entrance. 

The first knock yielded results. The CEO himself came out and greeted Jinwoo before allowing him to come inside.

They did their business right in the front hallway. The CEO checked the bags, smiling too brightly for a man committing such a large crime. When he passed over the wad of money, he patted Jinwoo’s back, and whispered, “If you tell a single soul about any of this, I will ensure your demise, young man. I’m powerful enough to be protected from punishment; you are not.”

Jinwoo hadn’t planned to tell anyone else. He was content with just the money, and if a corrupt CEO was messing around with drugs, then that was none of Jinwoo’s business. He didn’t care what this man did in his free time. All he cared for was the thousands upon thousands of won that he held in his hand.

He texted Myungjun on his way to the gang leader’s house:  _ it went fine!!! b home asap!!!! love u! _

_ yay!!! _ was his response, along with several heart emojis. Jinwoo grinned to himself at how absolutely adorable his boyfriend was. He pocketed his phone, humming lightly as he stared out the window.

The house of his gang leader wasn’t that large. It only had a few rooms, and it was in a busy section of the city, but Jinwoo still admired that far more than his own apartment space. He also admired the furnishings inside, and he wondered which furnishings Myungjun would like most for whatever spot they got together.

“I have the money,” Jinwoo greeted the leader, and he passed over the rest of his debt. Instantly, he felt freed. He felt like he could jump up and grab the actual sun, the physical sun, without any pain or hesitation. He grinned as the leader counted out every last won. “That’s all, right?” he asked.

The leader looked impressed. “You must’ve done something huge to pay it off all at once.”

Jinwoo shrugged, then asked, “This means...this means I no longer have to be part of the gang, right? This means I’m free to leave?”

“I thought you wanted a family,” the leader muttered, “and a chance to feel like you belong. We protect you and we allow you to make money, and we-”

“I don’t want that,” Jinwoo replied, shaking his head. “I’d be happier if I wasn’t...here. Doing this.”

The leader sighed. He waved his hand and shrugged his shoulders. “One of the guys already spilled it, anyway, that you like to fuck boys and apparently you found some cute fag to suck off. Fine, then, run off and elope with him. If you give away any information about our proceedings, I’ll come find you and kill you.”

The door was closed in his face and Jinwoo resisted the urge to run back in there and explain that people should stop talking about him and Myungjun in such a manner. They made their love seem weird and obscene, when it was nothing short of wonderful and amazing. Especially now that Jinwoo was free, now that he had money, he knew he could make the best life for Myungjun.

Fussing at a gang leader, however, was just a bad idea, and so Jinwoo just decided to brush off the mean jabs and turn around to head back to the bus stop. Now, finally, he could return to Myungjun. They could go look for apartments somewhere and imagine their future life together.

He checked his phone for the time. He had finished far earlier than he thought. He told Myungjun he would be home later in the evening, but it was still afternoon.

He continued walking, but stopped when he reached a familiar tattoo parlor. It was the spot of so many regrets, wrong decisions, drunken antics. He had come to hate the parlor, and yet-

His daffodil needed a companion to finally signify the end of an era.

An appointment wasn’t necessary, since Jinwoo was close enough to one of the artists who ran the shop, and the tattoo Jinwoo wanted was simple and quick and easy.

“It’s a lot more cute than what I’m used to tatting on you,” the artist muttered as he finished and accepted Jinwoo’s payment. 

“It’s going to be my last one,” Jinwoo proudly exclaimed. He patted the tattoo lightly, nestled securely underneath his shirt and a small layer of plastic wrap, and then added, “I’m out of the gang, and I’m going to move.”

“With your little boy-toy, right?” the artist asked.

Jinwoo pursed his lips. “Seems word has spread quickly.” He had expected Taewoong to tell, so he wasn’t too surprised. He was disappointed, however, that no one seemed to understand the depth and weight of the love he shared with Myungjun. He couldn’t make them understand, and so he simply bid the artist farewell before hurrying right on back to the bus stop.

_ on my way!! _ he texted cheerfully as he boarded the next bus. In fifteen minutes, he would see Myungjun for the first time as someone freed from his debt. For the first time, he would see Myungjun as a normal, jobless citizen, and not some dead-beat gangster.

Myungjun didn’t answer his text, and Jinwoo sent a few heart emojis to try and garner some response. Usually, his boyfriend was great about texting back. Perhaps he just laid his phone down to do something. Maybe he even got called into work. It wasn’t a big deal, and so when even his hearts went unread, Jinwoo just shoved his phone into his pocket. He would see Myungjun soon enough, and he was nearly bouncing with excitement when the bus pulled up to his stop.

He couldn’t wait to show Myungjun the money, and his tattoo, to share the news of his freedom, to instantly go apartment hunting while he was still so high on life.

The grin, though, was wiped from his face when he got closer to his apartment and realized his door was slightly ajar. He  _ knew _ he had closed it, and Myungjun was too scared of the neighborhood to leave it unlocked, let alone opened.

As he stepped closer, he heard cries for help.

Myungjun’s cries for help.

He burst through the door in a panic, and his eyes widened at the sight.

Myungjun was pinned up against the wall by a strange man; but even if the man moved away, Myungjun would still be pinned. A knife was pushed through his hand and shoved into the wall, keeping Myungjun in place. Jinwoo could see blood dripping down his arm, staining his clothes and the floor beneath him. His face was no better; already swollen from hits and punches, bruised in every single spot, ugly purple and red colors shining through. His lip was busted, and it looked as if somewhere above his eyebrow was sliced open, too.

“Myungjun!” Jinwoo blurted out, hurrying closer.

The man holding him turned around, releasing his grip on Myungjun. Myungjun’s legs looked like they could give out at any minute, but he had to hold himself up, lest he fall and tear his entire hand apart.

“Jinwoo!” Myungjun cried, and the man sighed.

“Finally, it’s Jinwoo.” The man looked angry. He crossed his arms over his chest and fussed, “This kid is no help. Wouldn’t give me shit about were you went off to. Real noble of him, isn’t it? Protecting you when all I’m here for are a few questions.”

Jinwoo felt sick to his stomach. He tried to push past the guy, to go check on Myungjun, but the man reached out and grasped onto his shoulders, gripping Jinwoo tightly. His fingers curled into Jinwoo’s shirt and dug into his skin. Jinwoo winced back, but the man held him in place. “Where’s Taewoong?” the man asked.

“What?”

“Where the  _ fuck _ is Taewoong?” the man repeated himself. “I know you know. Give me his location, or I’ll fucking kill this kid.”

Myungjun was sobbing, still trying to keep himself upright, though he looked ready to fall down any moment.

Jinwoo felt panicked. He couldn’t give away Taewoong’s location, not without his own gang becoming upset and going after him. They couldn’t betray each other like that - and hadn’t the leader  _ just _ demanded that Jinwoo keep his mouth shut about everything he knew?

It  _ was _ just Taewoong, though. Would the leader really try to murder him if he just gave away Taewoong’s location? Taewoong deserved it; he had gotten himself into a mess, and he had been a dick to all of his friends.

“Tell me where that cheating bastard is,” the man ordered, and before Jinwoo could say anything, he spun around and punched Myungjun in the face. Myungjun’s entire body moved with the punch, and his hand tore just slightly. He cried loudly, screaming in pain, and Jinwoo felt like he couldn’t breathe.

“Tell me-”

“In Seoul,” Jinwoo blurted out. “Dongjak District. He’s tall, he has a tattoo on his face, piercings, too, you can’t miss him-”

The man smirked. “There. That wasn’t so difficult, was it?” He grabbed onto his knife, and without giving any sort of warning, he pulled it from the wall. Knives being tugged away from skin always made a disgusting sound, and when it was  _ Myungjun _ receiving that pain, Jinwoo realized just how sickening it was to him. He wanted to vomit, but he simply shoved the man aside and went to cradle Myungjun.

The man watched for a second before clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “You might want to get your lock looked at. It really  _ is _ easy to get inside,” he murmured, and he gave Jinwoo a grin as he head outside, closing the door behind him.

Jinwoo didn’t worry about his words at the moment. He didn’t worry about how the man got inside or how he knew  _ who _ to even visit. Instead, he held Myungjun close to him, trying his best to get a good look at all of the injuries. “Oh, god,” he whispered, his hands shaking as he brushed Myungjun’s hair aside to assess the damage across his face. “Sunshine? Sunshine, look up at me, please.”

Myungjun took a few seconds to process Jinwoo’s words, and when he finally did look up, his pupils were uneven. Jinwoo cursed out loud and dug in his pocket for his phone. “I’m going to call the ambulance, and the police, and-”

“Don’t,” Myungjun said. “They’ll ge’ you.”

His words were slurred. That wasn’t good.  _ None _ of this was good. His hand was ruined and it was obvious he had a concussion. He couldn’t even keep his head up, and he winced when Jinwoo moved him into a better position.

“Where all does it hurt?” Jinwoo asked him.

“‘Tomach,” Myungjun murmured. “Han’. Eyes. Head.”

His stomach hurt, too? Jinwoo gently pressed a hand down onto his torso and Myungjun whimpered out. “Shit,” Jinwoo said. “Shit, shit,  _ shit _ -”

Were his ribs broken, too? It seemed like it. Or what if some more internal damage was caused? “What the fuck did he do to you?”

“E’erythin’,” Myungjun said. 

“Punching? Kicking? Stabbing?  Anything else?”

Myungjun looked as if he was trying to shake his head, but Jinwoo stopped him, holding his head in place with one hand while he dialed 119 on his cell phone. “Hold still, Sunshine,” he whispered. “It’s okay. I’m going to fix this.”

He didn’t know how he could fix anything, though. He had thought things would be fine. He knew they had gone through difficulties together as a couple, but things were finally looking up. He had money, he was freed from his gang, and yet-

Myungjun lay in his arms, a broken, bloodied heap, concussed and in too much pain to even move. 

Jinwoo knew this was all his fault. If only he had tried earlier to get free. If only he hadn’t let his life deteriorate so much in the first place. If only he had rejected Myungjun before they ever started to date, then Myungjun would be safe and happy. He wouldn’t be curled up in Jinwoo’s arms staring blankly ahead, shaking and bleeding out onto the floor.

Jinwoo explained his emergency, reiterating that the ambulance needed to  _ hurry _ . He wanted Myungjun to get treated as soon as possible. He wanted Myungjun to be okay.

“Door was’locked,” Myungjun slurred out the moment Jinwoo finished his call. “I locked it b’ind you. You left. I locked it.”

Youngsoo  _ had _ told him to get the door fixed. Youngsoo had been the one to show Jinwoo that it was broken, but Jinwoo, in all his excitement to get money and start a new life, had completely forgotten about the damned lock.Youngsoo had told him, too, that he might want to get the lock looked at.

The man had said the same thing.

Jinwoo blinked in confusion, then held tighter onto Myungjun.

The man knew about the broken lock. He had stated, “It really  _ is _ easy-” as if someone had told him about the lock. He knew, too, that Jinwoo was aware of Taewoong’s location, or else he wouldn’t have ever come to Jinwoo’s apartment.

Youngsoo told him.

That was the only explanation. Jinwoo hadn’t told a soul about Taewoong, hadn’t told a soul about the lock. Myungjun, obviously, didn’t care enough to talk to any of the neighbors, and didn’t know any other gang members.

Jinwoo’s own friend had damned Myungjun. He had betrayed Jinwoo, in the process, and now everything was ruined.

Even Jinwoo’s friends were bad for Myungjun. Even allowing them to come into his home had proved to be a terrible decision in the end. No matter what Jinwoo did, he had continued to ruin poor Myungjun.

His sunshine had dimmed and it was all his fault.

He glanced down at Myungjun, who had closed his eyes. Jinwoo felt fear rise up. He knew Myungjun was unlikely to die suddenly from a concussion and a few flesh wounds, but he still shook him lightly, waking him up again. “Look at me,” he ordered. “Keep looking at me.”

Seeing Myungjun’s gaze on him, however unfocused and confused he was, calmed Jinwoo down slightly. It reminded him that Myungjun was alive, and would likely be fine after a long stay at the hospital. Though, the wound on his hand might take too long to heal, and there might be memory issues from a concussion-

If they weren’t showing now, though, they probably wouldn’t show later.

“You remember last night?” Jinwoo asked in a whisper. “You remember it, right?”

“Yeah, Myungjun responded in just a small exhale.

“What did we do last night?”

“We ate rice,” Myungjun replied. “Your friend came. We...we had sex - we cuddled.”

He did remember that. Jinwoo tried something else. “Remember when we met?”

“Bus,” was Myungjun’s instant response. “Gave you gloves.”

“Tell me about your first night with Sanha.”

Myungjun answered all of Jinwoo’s inquiries with precision and detail to memory, and Jinwoo felt some of his worry ebb away. However, just because Myungjun’s memory was still good didn’t mean the rest of him was. He was horribly beaten and hurt and Jinwoo  _ knew _ it was all his fault.

He heard the ambulance outside and he breathed a sigh of relief. They would fix Myungjun up and he would be healthy soon. He could return to work.

He could return home in order to brighten his shine once again.

Jinwoo would let him go this time. Jinwoo would finally put Myungjun first, before himself, and quell his love in order to focus on Myungjun’s well-being. Myungjun would do much better without him. He wouldn’t live in fear and pain. He would experience discomfort at bad living conditions, nor would he face the terrible decisions of Jinwoo’s so-called friends. He would be safe and happy.

And Jinwoo would return to his spot among the weeds and dead plants, a daffodil doomed to always remain in the tight hold of winter.

It was for the best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :') sorry
> 
> please follow me on my [twitter](https://twitter.com/thevonseal) i'll give spoilers and updates and whatnot there! i also post my update schedule onto twitter, so if you're curious when this fic will release chapter twenty-seven, check there!


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **chapter warnings:** language, homophobia

They had closed Jinwoo out of the room shortly after bringing Myungjun to the hospital. The doctor claimed they had to run tests and check on his broken ribs, and Jinwoo’s constant presence was unnecessary. They forced him into the waiting room where Jinwoo sat in wait and in worry, biting at his fingers and running his hands through his hair.

He had called Myungjun’s family, too, in what was probably the most difficult phone call he ever had to make. How was he supposed to tell such wonderful, loving parents that his affiliation with the wrong sort of people had landed Myungjun in the hospital?

He didn’t have the number for Myungjun’s parents; he only had Sanha’s cell. He called it reluctantly, gripping at his phone in anxiety when the young boy answered with such a cheerful greeting. “Hi, Jinwoo!”

Jinwoo bit down on his lip and tried to calm himself down. “Hello,” he said.

“What’s up?”

Sanha was so blissfully unaware. Jinwoo squeezed his eyes shut and asked, “Sanha, are you near your parents?”

There was a pause, then Sanha replied, “My dad’s working the kitchen. I can give him the phone, though, if you need to talk to him.”

Jinwoo nodded, though he knew Sanha couldn’t see. “Please,” he requested.

“Alright...just hold on.” He heard shuffling, Sanha probably moving to the kitchen, and then the boy called out, “Dad, Jinwoo wants to talk to you.”

It took a few extra seconds for Myungjun’s father to speak, and in that time, Jinwoo twice tried not to heave. His anxiety had really kicked in, and he was scared for Myungjun and scared of judgement.

“Jinwoo?” Myungjun’s father instantly said. “Is everything alright?”

Jinwoo swallowed thickly. “We’re at the hospital,” he murmured.

“What?”

“Myungjun...is hurt. He got hurt.”

“What happened?”

Jinwoo didn’t want to recount the story. He didn’t know  _ how _ to recount the story. He curled in on himself, seated alone on the hard, plastic chair in the waiting room, struggling to keep his tears in check. “I-I had gone to do errands, and I came back, a-and...someone broke into my apartment. They-they wanted to know where I was, and…” He couldn’t help the small sob that escaped his mouth. Replaying the scene in his head was difficult enough; telling it to Myungjun’s father was near impossible. “H-H-He was beaten and his-his hand was- a knife was stabbed th-through his hand. He has a concussion, and-and broken ribs, and-”

“What hospital?” Myungjun’s father frantically questioned. “Jinwoo, what hospital are you at?”

Jinwoo told him, and before he could say anything else regarding the situation, Myungjun’s father had hung up the phone. No doubt they would close down the shop and hurry over. No doubt they would soon discover the truth,  _ why _ someone had broken into his house in the first place, and then he would feel nothing but disappointment.

He knew he ought to leave now. He should run away to ensure he brought no more trouble to Myungjun and his family. He couldn’t, though; he just felt as if he needed to stay to make certain Myungjun would get out of this okay.

Just as he put his phone back in his pocket, he heard footsteps coming toward him. He glanced up, seeing two policemen. Instantly, he tensed; he had never had a good relationship with the law, and though he knew he did nothing directly to impact Myungjun’s condition, he still felt guilty.

“Park Jinwoo?” one of the policemen asked.

Jinwoo nodded his head.

“We were called by the doctor. He is suspecting a domestic dispute - you are Kim Myungjun’s...partner, correct?”

Jinwoo blinked in confusion. He wiped tears from his eyes, then repeated, “Do-Domestic dispute?”

“Yes. Did you beat Kim Myungjun?”

“No! No, I-I would  _ never _ hurt him! I told the doctor, s-someone had broken in and-”

The policeman didn’t seem to be listening. “I’ve done a background check. You live in an unsafe part of town. You appear to have been partially involved in some gang activity. Are you part of a gang, Jinwoo?”

Jinwoo wasn’t sure how to answer that question. His mouth felt dry as he stared up at the policeman before him. 

“What we suspect is a domestic dispute. Your...lifestyle suggests that you would have violent tendencies. And...homosexual men are likely to engage in violent activities, as well.”

“What the fuck?” Jinwoo blurted out. The policeman looked startled, but Jinwoo refused to apologize. “I...I do have some bad friends and a bad past, but-but I’d  _ never _ hurt Myungjun. I love him. It wasn’t  _ me _ .”

The policeman sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. “We see this sometimes with homosexual couples. It’s just protocol to ask.”

Jinwoo sniffed pathetically and ducked his head. He felt a rage stir within him, but it couldn’t penetrate the immense feeling of guilt and sorrow that had already settled. He had indirectly caused this, and he would face whatever cruel words the police had for him.

“Do you know who did it, then?” the other policeman asked, his words a bit more kind.

Jinwoo shook his head. “H-He’s from a gang,” he replied quietly. “He wanted information. He hurt Myungjun until I came h-home.”

Yet again, he had to recount the story, and, yet again, he felt sick to his stomach. He wanted to wipe it clean from his memory. He wanted Myungjun to wake up and be fine and for both of them to forget what had happened.

The policemen left him alone after that, promising to come by later and see if there was any new information. Jinwoo didn’t care what they did. It was too difficult to catch a gang member, and they would likely not waste any efforts on it. Jinwoo would have to take the lead to make sure this didn’t happen again.

That involved staying away from Myungjun the moment he was better.

At some point, Myungjun’s family came into the waiting room, all in a panic. Minhyuk, arm hooked around Sanha, was the only one calm enough to ask Jinwoo if they could go see Myungjun.

Jinwoo didn’t meet any of their eyes. He stared at the floor. “No,” he responded. “Doctor hasn’t come out yet.”

Sanha, nearly trembling in Minhyuk’s hold, asked, “Wh-Why did that happen to my brother? Why did they hurt  _ Myungjun? _ ”

Though Jinwoo didn’t look up, he could feel all of the family staring at him, expectant and desperate gazes boring straight into his heart. Jinwoo was dizzy. He whispered, “It’s...my fault. I’m - I was the one they wanted to talk to. I was gone. Myungjun wouldn’t tell him where I was. He thought he was protecting me.” Jinwoo closed his eyes and drew his knees up to his chest wrapping his arms around himself. “I...I’m in a gang.”  _ Was _ in a gang, but he had just managed to get out a few hours prior. He wouldn’t confuse them with the logistics of that. He just focused on telling the story. “One o-of the other members got in trouble with a different gang. A friend betrayed me, sent this other gang member to my place-”

“You willingly let my son move in with you  _ knowing _ he might be involved in gang activity?” Myungjun’s mother snapped. Jinwoo didn’t look up, but he could hear the sobs laced within her voice. She was crying. “Did you not care at  _ all _ for his safety?”

“I’m sorry,” Jinwoo choked out. “I didn’t know it would happen. I-I was going to move out with him as soon as possible. I got the money for it today, and I cut my ties with the gang, but this happened.”

No one else said anything. After a few seconds of silence, Myungjun’s father sat down, a few seats away from Jinwoo. He didn’t look over or try to offer any comfort. Myungjun’s mother followed in her husband’s stead, and Sanha nervously glanced between his family and Jinwoo before finally taking a seat next to Jinwoo. Minhyuk was beside him, keeping a tight hold on his hand as Sanha took deep breaths.

Time passed too slowly. Jinwoo kept glancing up whenever a doctor came out into the waiting room, but no one came to give them information about Myungjun until an hour or two later.

“Family of Kim Myungjun?” a doctor requested, peeking his head into the room.

Myungjun’s family jumped up from their seats. Minhyuk, even, still wrapped around Sanha, hurried forward as they explained their relation to him. Sanha looked back once at Jinwoo and bit his lip, but he didn’t ask Jinwoo to come along with them. 

And Jinwoo didn’t ask if he  _ could _ go along with them.

He felt as if he didn’t deserve it just then. Besides, if he wanted to pull away from Myungjun, it would be far easier to just not see him anymore. He would hear from Myungjun’s family how his boyfriend was, and if things were fine, he would leave.

First, though-

He pulled his phone out again and flipped through his address book. Youngsoo’s name was one of the few he had listed, and he called.

No answer.

He called again.

No answer.

He called five more times before, finally, Youngsoo picked up. “What?” Youngsoo asked with a loud sigh.

“You fucking bastard,” Jinwoo hissed, standing from his seat and moving somewhere more private to talk. “You told him, didn’t you? You told him I knew.”

Youngsoo hesitated, then replied, “I’m sorry, Jinwoo. I really am. I just...I panicked. You might hate the gang, but I don’t, and I couldn’t give away Taewoong’s-”

“He fucking stabbed Myungjun,” Jinwoo snapped, “and he beat him up until he was concussed. My boyfriend is in a hospital bed because you’re nothing but a goddamn coward.”

Youngsoo accepted the criticism. Youngsoo seemed to understand how drastically he had screwed things up. 

“You even told him how to unlock the fucking door - christ, do you not have any sort of conscience? Do you just not fucking care who gets hurt in your stupid gang affiliation?”

“ _ You _ were the one who brought Myungjun into things,” Youngsoo responded, just as bitterly. “You knew this was a possibility, and yet you decided that you would let Myungjun deal with it all, anyway. So don’t you dare peg this on  _ me _ .”

Jinwoo clenched his free hand into a fist. He had already blamed himself enough. He had already thought of everything he could have done differently in order to save Myungjun from such a life of misery. He knew he had screwed things up, but Youngsoo had betrayed him. He refused to be pegged as the sole bad guy in this situation.

“Fuck off,” Jinwoo said, “and don’t you dare ever speak to me again.”

He hung up and deleted Youngsoo’s number from his phone. He stared at the few contacts he still had, and in a burst of frustration and anguish, he deleted the rest of the contacts from his phone, too. All that remained was Myungjun and Sanha.

He would delete them soon. Once he learned of Myungjun’s situation, he would wipe their existence from his phone and attempt to also wipe them from his memory. 

He returned back to his spot in the waiting room and sat in his hard, plastic chair. Once settled down, he allowed himself to cry. Overwhelmed with the events that transpired, with the sudden emotional change of the day, he cried and cried. He had never felt more alone than he did right then and there, and he longed for the day to rewind. He would’ve sent Myungjun off to  _ The Star _ . He  _ should have _ done that. Then the man would have only fought with Jinwoo. Myungjun would have been safe. They could have gone apartment shopping later and moved out within a week or two and things would have been perfect.

As it was, now he didn’t know what to do with the rest of his life, and his poor boyfriend was stuck in a hospital bed with severe injuries. Life truly had wanted him to be dealt a terrible blow.

Sanha came out to greet him a bit later. Jinwoo, still sniffling and wiping at his face, had offered him a shaky smile.

“He’s up,” Sanha muttered, sitting down next to Jinwoo. “He keeps asking for you.”

Jinwoo closed his eyes. “How is he?”

“On a lot of pain medicine. His, um, his concussion isn’t too bad. His ribs are cracked. Both of those just require lots of rest. His hand…” Sanha hesitated. Jinwoo held his breath, awaiting the continuation of that sentence. “The...nerves are damaged. The doctor said...he said that-” Sanha sounded choked up. “He might not be able to use his hand again.”

Jinwoo wanted to curse. He wanted to scream. He had ruined Myungjun’s hand - indirectly, inadvertently, but he was still the main cause behind it. Because of him, Myungjun might not be able to fulfill his dreams of working in the noodle shop for the rest of his life. Would it be possible for a cook to perform well with only one hand?

“The, um, the doctors are looking out for infection. But, um...they might have to amputate, if things don’t...go well with it.”

Jinwoo buried his face into his hands. He wished that had been him. He could handle it. He was worthless, anyway, and so a ruined hand wouldn’t bother him at all. Myungjun, though, poor Myungjun - Myungjun didn’t do anything to deserve this.

“You should go see him,” Sanha muttered. “Mom and Dad and Minhyuk are coming out soon. I asked if you two could have some time alone.”

“Why are you still being so nice to me?” Jinwoo asked, voice muffled behind his hands. He couldn’t stop crying. “This is all my fault.”

“It isn’t, though.  _ You _ didn’t do this, and you didn’t even want for it to happen. It just...happened.” 

When Jinwoo made no response, Sanha sighed and said, “Myungjun promised us it wasn’t your fault. He said he doesn’t blame you one bit. He just really wants to see you, though.”

Jinwoo didn’t know how he was expected to face Myungjun after what he had done. He didn’t know how he  _ could _ face Myungjun. He didn’t know how he could disregard the concussion and cracked ribs and ruined hand and still tell Myungjun that he loved him and would keep him safe. How was he supposed to do  _ anything? _

Sanha nudged him. “Please,” he whispered. “Please, Jinwoo, he really wants  _ you _ .”

It shouldn’t have ever come down to this. Jinwoo should have stopped their flirting earlier on, before  _ this _ . They never should have become a couple. He knew he was dragging Myungjun down to his level, and he was now faced with the consequence of his actions. 

“I’ll...I’ll go see him. Just for a bit,” Jinwoo murmured. If he left now, he would upset Myungjun. It would probably be better to go see him, at least for a little bit, and make him happy while he was stuck in the hospital.

He glanced up from his hands. Sanha grinned kindly at him and stood from his seat. “Come on,” he gestured.

Jinwoo followed him down the hallway. He still felt sick to his stomach, but Sanha’s gentle and calm presence made things a little bit easier to handle. 

They were right outside Myungjun’s door when Jinwoo grabbed onto Sanha’s sleeve. “Is...are your parents gone?” he asked.

Sanha peeked into the room and nodded his head. “Just Minhyuk,” he whispered, pushing the door open a bit more. Still, Jinwoo didn’t yet step inside. He was scared to see Myungjun, scared to face his mistakes. Sanha looked at him in confusion before his face morphed into one of understanding.

“It’s okay,” Sanha promised. 

Then he heard Myungjun’s voice. “Is that Jinwoo?” he called out. It was shaky, still a bit slurred, and Jinwoo took a step back.

“I can’t,” Jinwoo said.

“You  _ can _ . He wants you.” Sanha looked desperate that this point, grabbing onto Jinwoo’s arm to keep him from moving any further. “Please, Jinwoo. Please.”

Jinwoo wanted to run away and avoid causing any more damage to Myungjun and his family. Sanha, though, stared at him and begged, and he knew he had to see Myungjun once. At least once. He had to see him before he left.

So, with a deep breath and a nod to Sanha, he entered the room, taking slow steps as he came across Myungjun.

He looked so tiny, swallowed up in such a large bed. IV machines were hooked to his skin, bandages stretched out across his face. His hand was in some sort of cast, resting uselessly on his chest. He smiled widely when he saw Jinwoo.

Jinwoo wanted to run. He wanted to go to the bathroom and throw up. He couldn’t believe what happened to Myungjun because of  _ him _ .

“Jinwoo,” Myungjun said.

Jinwoo took a large breath. He glanced over at Minhyuk, who bowed his head silently and scurried off outside, probably to stick around with Sanha. Finally alone with Myungjun, Jinwoo shuffled over to his bed and then collapsed onto the chair provided for him.

He looked over his boyfriend, at the bruises swollen over his eyes and his split lip and bandaged hand, and then he burst into tears.

“I-I-I’m so  _ sorry! _ ” he sobbed out, leaning over Myungjun’s bed and brushing his bangs back. “I’m sorry, Myungjun. I didn’t m-mean for this to happen - oh, god, I’m so, so sorry.”

He couldn’t stop crying. He couldn’t stop shaking. Everything had gone wrong because of him.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Myungjun stated. He reached his good hand out and grasped onto Jinwoo’s hand. “You didn’t do anything. It isn’t your fault.”

Jinwoo shook his head. His cheeks were sticky with tears, but he made no move to wipe them away. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. He was sorry for ever getting involved with Myungjun in the first place. He knew he shouldn’t have ever flirted back. He  _ knew _ better, and yet selfish desires won over logic and reason.

And such selfish desires had now ruined Myungjun.

Myungjun said nothing else. He just held Jinwoo’s hand, staring over at him with sorrow in his gaze, watching as Jinwoo broke down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> when will we get happiness? we only got three chapters left.
> 
> please follow me on my [twitter](https://twitter.com/thevonseal) i'll give spoilers and updates and whatnot there! i also post my update schedule onto twitter, so if you're curious when this fic will release chapter twenty-eight, check there!


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **chapter warnings:** annnnnnngst?

He had two bags that he used to empty out his room completely.

In these bags, he stuffed clothing and underwear. He put away a few kitchen utensils, too, after washing them clean. Some water bottles and snack foods were tossed in one of the bags, along with a few movies he owned and his bedsheets. He packed his toothbrush, his hair gel, and a few earrings he liked. Placed gently on top of these piles were the last two objects he wanted to keep; the photograph of his mother, and his Pikachu plushie.

He slung the bags over his shoulder and stared at his apartment. It was always bland and lifeless. It never really felt like  _ his _ place; more so just a room he crashed in after exhausting days on the street. He didn’t feel upset to be leaving. Instead, he looked at the blood still smeared on his wall from the assault on Myungjun. He looked at the yellowing paint and chipped ceiling. He stared at the old, squeaky bed and the small fridge he used to store his food in.

Jinwoo then turned on his heel and left.

The room remained unlocked. He tossed his key on the ground. Let vultures swoop down and steal all he owned. Let his landlord have a fit about abhorrent lack of security on Jinwoo’s part. He didn’t care. By tomorrow, he would be hours away, setting up a small apartment or a house - he hadn’t decided yet where to live. Just not here.

Anywhere but here.

Jinwoo slowly made his way down to the bus stop, his pockets full of cash and his heart full of regret.

He didn’t regret leaving his tiny room in a bad complex. He didn’t regret cutting his ties with the gang. He didn’t even regret ditching that lying bastard, Youngsoo, because he would never miss those. He just regretted leaving Myungjun without saying a proper goodbye.

He had sat with Myungjun as long as he was able the day of his assault. He cried over the bed, grasping at his one good hand, issuing apology after apology. Myungjun, poor, innocent Myungjun, was doped up on too much medication to truly understand the gravity of the situation. He smiled most of the time, occasionally telling Jinwoo, “It’s alright. It’s fine. Look at me, I’m alive!”

Myungjun also said, “I love you,” over and over again. As Jinwoo sobbed, Myungjun uttered it. He was quiet at first, words slurring out, “Love you.” When Jinwoo looked at him, he tested the waters again. “I real’ love you. Really.  _ Reallyreallyreally _ . Godiloveyou.”

“Stop it,” Jinwoo had choked out.

Myungjun was concussed and high on whatever the nurse had pumped into his bloodstream, and he grinned goofily. “I feel good.  _ So good _ . You take drugs? This ‘how you feel?” He laughed and pulled his hand from Jinwoo’s hold, tapping at a large bruise on his cheek. “Don’t feel anything!”

“Stop!” Jinwoo exclaimed, pulling his hand away. “Stop it!”

“ _ This _ is why you take drugs?” Myungjun sighed, his disoriented gaze landing up on the ceiling. “ _ Sogood _ .”

Jinwoo shook his head. “You don’t know what you’re saying,” he said. “It’s...it’s not like this, Myungjun.”

Myungjun shushed him, then whispered, “Call me Sunshine.”

Jinwoo kept his mouth shut.

“Jinwoo,” Myungjun said. “Jinnie.  _ Jinniejinniejinniejinnie. _ Call me Sunshine.”

His giddiness hadn’t lasted for too much longer. He quieted down after a bit, and then grit his teeth. His jaw shook. He squeezed his eyes shut and held tighter onto Jinwoo’s hand, his palm becoming sweaty and his breathing coming out harshly.

Jinwoo had leaned over to press the button for more medication, but Myungjun stopped him with a sorrowful, “Don’t.”

“You’re in pain,” Jinwoo pointed out.

Myungjun gasped out, “I hate drugs. Hate them. Hate what they did to you. Hate how you got caught up in all of that like it was no issue. Hated it all.” He stared at Jinwoo as his eyes glistened with tears. “Can we run away when I’m better?”

He hated everything Jinwoo had engrossed himself in, and yet he  _ still _ wanted to be with Jinwoo. He  _ still _ held so much love for Jinwoo, and Jinwoo found himself disgusting right at that moment. Everything he had done to hurt Myungjun, everything he had done to tear his life down, was clearly obvious - and, yet, Myungjun adored him still.

The door to the hospital room had opened, and Jinwoo glanced up hurriedly. Myungjun’s mother stood at the entryway, hesitating for a second or two before stepping forward. She didn’t greet Jinwoo. Instead, she trained her eyes onto Myungjun. “Baby, are you alright?” she asked.

Jinwoo tried to leave. He stood and whispered, “Myungjun, let me go.”

“Don’t,” Myungjun begged, a repeat of just a few seconds prior. “Don’t leave me. Jinnie, don’t.  _ Pleasepleaseplease _ -”

“Myungjun-”

“My hand hurts!” Tears rolled down Myungjun’s cheeks. “A-And my face. And ribs. Oh,  _ god- _ ” He sobbed, but with each movement of his chest came pain. He was gasping for breath, trying to still himself but finding it difficult to control his crying. His mother hurried forward and pushed Jinwoo aside, breaking the contact he had with Myungjun.

She pressed down on the button Jinwoo had been reaching for, ignoring her son’s gasp of, “No!”

“Why didn’t you give him pain medication?” Myungjun’s mother snapped, her words directed to Jinwoo. “Why were you just letting him suffer?”

Jinwoo had asked himself that so much. Why did he let Myungjun suffer? Why did he pretend things were perfectly fine, even as Myungjun’s life deteriorated? He had been selfish, so extremely selfish, and Myungjun had paid the price dearly. His bright and cheerful boyfriend now lay in a hospital bed, pale and bruised, gasping out for breaths, unable to use his hand, confused and exhausted and concussed. Why? For what? So Jinwoo could experience love, for once in his life - and in return, he hadn’t shown Myungjun true love. If he had, Myungjun wouldn’t be here. 

“I’m sorry,” Jinwoo apologized, both to Myungjun and his mother. “I’ll...I’m going to step out.”

He looked over at Myungjun’s mother, her eyes hard as she glared back at him, and then he turned his stare to Myungjun.

Myungjun looked upset. “Don’t,” he requested for the third time. “Stay. Please, Jinnie, please-”

Jinwoo turned and left.

He rushed down the hallway, crying loudly as his feet took him back into the waiting room. Sanha and Minhyuk sat in wait, both glancing up in alarm when they saw Jinwoo.

“Jinwoo?” Sanha asked. “Are you okay?”

“I can’t do this!” Jinwoo exclaimed, shaking his head frantically. “I-I can’t-”

He left the waiting room, too. Sanha called after him twice, but Jinwoo moved quickly, pushing past doctors and visitors until he was finally out of the hospital. There, he turned and vomited into one of the pretty, potted plants decorating the entrance. He heaved and gagged, puke and saliva running down his chin, shaky hands gripping onto the stoneware that surrounded the plant.

He lifted one hand to wipe his mouth. He felt like he was suffocating; nothing, though, compared to how Myungjun must feel. He was experiencing a small piece of Myungjun’s current pain.

How he longed to be in Myungjun’s position instead. He wished it had been him. He wished Myungjun had been safe, and  _ he _ had been the one beaten and attacked. He could handle it; if he couldn’t, he was worthless enough that it wouldn’t have mattered if he ended up hospitalized or dead.

It was then that he decided he couldn’t wait until Myungjun was out of the hospital; he had to leave now. Every single minute he prolonged his stay would likely bring more misfortune to poor Myungjun and the rest of his family. He couldn’t allow himself anymore opportunity to ruin them.

So he packed his bags that night, called a taxi, and ran.

The taxi driver attempted to talk to him. Friendly conversation was probably desired so late into the night, but Jinwoo could find nothing of interest to respond to. Everything the driver brought up - from small paychecks to his sweet daughter - just seemed so pointless to Jinwoo.

“You visiting family?” the driver finally asked, switching topics from himself to Jinwoo. “Is that why you’re going to the train station?”

Jinwoo leaned his head up against the window and watched all the sights pass.

“Where do they live?” 

Jinwoo had no family. He had nowhere to go. He decided to just pay with the cash in his pocket for a train ticket and to go wherever it was his heart desired. Somewhere along the coast, maybe, where he could live out his stupid, childish dream of becoming a fisherman. He would live a quiet life then, bothered by nothing and no one. He wouldn’t meet anyone else, either, because all that really mattered was Myungjun. He  _ wanted _ no one else.

“You’re not very talkative, are you?” the driver asked him.

There was no reason to answer him. Jinwoo didn’t feel like talking.

The driver kept it up, however. “Before I started this job, I wasn’t very talkative, either. I was shy, just like you. I liked to keep to myself. I think things just change a little bit depending on what you do and who you’re around. I mean, thanks to this job, I met my wife. We’ve been married for  _ years _ , and not a day goes by when I’m not so happy to be home with her.” The man sighed, clearly thinking only good thoughts. “I hope you have someone like that by your side. You might need it, later in life.”

Jinwoo wished he did, too. He wished he had someone he could go home to at the end of a long day. Instead, he was simply pushing aside the one man he loved. He had good reason for his actions, but it left a hole where his heart ought to be. Was this truly the right thing to do? Should he really leave with no words, no explanations, no goodbyes?

The hospital was nearing. Jinwoo, in an act of desperation, suddenly leaned forward and demanded, “Stop right here.”

The driver listened to him, but commented, “I thought we were going to the train station.”

“Later,” Jinwoo said, pulling out his large wad of money. “How much do I owe you?”

The driver offered to stay put, to wait until Jinwoo was done visiting whoever it was he wanted to visit, but Jinwoo shook his head and told him to go on, to pick up other late-night passengers. Besides, he wasn’t sure how long it would take to say goodbye.

With his bags over his shoulder, he made his way up to Myungjun’s floor, nerves skyrocketing the closer his feet took him. It was a bad idea, probably, to see Myungjun one last time, but he couldn’t help his feelings and emotions. He had to get closure.

Myungjun, too, deserved closure.

He passed a nurse on his way, who tried to stop him. “Visiting hours are over,” she said, but Jinwoo begged her.

“Please,” he whispered. “Just...five minutes. I’ll leave, I swear, I just...I need five minutes.”

She relented, and perhaps the couple won Jinwoo stuffed into her hand had something to do with her lackluster ability to stop him, but Jinwoo wouldn’t have cared if he spent all his money. He had to say goodbye. He had to see Myungjun before he left.

The room Myungjun stayed in was quiet and empty. No doubt, his family had gone home for the evening. Myungjun lay there, still hooked to machines. His eyes were closed and his breaths were short and labored, but he seemed fine.

Jinwoo took a seat beside him, staring down at Myungjun. Guilt churned in his stomach and he felt sick again, but at least Myungjun wasn’t spouting off nonsense anymore. At least, it seemed, the medicine had done its trick and had allowed him the chance to sleep off the intense pain.

After a few minutes, Jinwoo rifled through his backpack, moving aside clothes and toiletries until he found what he wanted.

Yellow gloves.

He placed these on the little table beside Myungjun’s bed, right next to a small cup of water and tissues. As he moved, though, Myungjun stirred.

Jinwoo froze in place and Myungjun blinked up at him, squinting through the darkness in an effort to see just who it was inside his room in the middle of the night.

“Jinwoo?” he breathed out.

Jinwoo swallowed thickly and ducked his head before nodding to Myungjun’s question.

Myungjun smacked his lips together before attempting to sit up. Panicked he would hurt himself, Jinwoo stood and pushed his boyfriend back into the bed, quieting him with soft, “Shh, shh, Sunshine, don’t strain yourself, please.”

“I-I want to see you better, though,” Myungjun whined.

“I’m right here. Look up. I’m here.”

Myungjun was still distraught, but at least he stopped moving. He remained still, gazing up at Jinwoo with nothing but adoration and love. It was gross; Jinwoo didn’t deserve to be the object of Myungjun’s affections. He wished he wasn’t. Myungjun was better off loving someone else,  _ anyone _ else.

“What are you doing here?” Myungjun asked.

Jinwoo stared down at him for a second or two more before glancing over at Myungjun’s hand, laying against his chest, cast and wrapped and  _ ruined _ .

“Does it hurt?” Jinwoo asked. “Do you need medicine?”

Myungjun smiled softly up at him. “It does. But-but don’t press the button. I’m fine. It’s not so bad right now. It’s... _ I’m _ fine, Jinnie.”

“They said...you might not be able to use your hand ever again,” Jinwoo choked out. “And you have a concussion, and your ribs are cracked - how the hell is any of this  _ fine? _ You almost died because of me!”

“But I didn’t die,” Myungjun pointed out. “And my hand will probably heal. I bet it will. Ribs will heal, concussion will go away soon - please don’t worry so much about me. I can take care of myself.”

He was smiling still, bruises shining against the harsh, white light seeping in through the glass pane of Myungjun’s door. Jinwoo had to look away, to bury his head into his hands, and to gasp out, “You could’ve died, and it’s because of  _ me _ . It’s because of what I affiliate myself with, who I hung out with - god, Myungjun, I-I can’t think of enough ways to apologize to you. I never will be able to.”

“I’m not looking for an...an  _ apology _ .” Myungjun held out his one good hand and wiggled his fingers slightly. “I just want you to hold me, okay? I’ll be out soon, and then we...we can go apartment hunting! Somewhere close to  _ The Star _ . You can work with me, too, in my shop - once Sanha leaves, he’ll probably take Minhyuk with him and we’ll need extra help, and you do perfect, and I love you so much-”

“Please...please, don’t-”

“Don’t what?” Myungjun, once more, tried to sit up, and, once more, his efforts were thwarted by Jinwoo’s quick movements. “Don’t say that I love you? I can’t help what I feel. I really can’t. I want to love you for the rest of my life.”

He never should have come here. All he wanted to do now was to stay. Myungjun would accept him and Jinwoo wouldn’t change-

In order to change, he had to be away from Myungjun. He had to change everything: his lifestyle, his personality, his attitude. If he continued to allow Myungjun to love him and to coddle him, he would fall back into familiar vices. He would never become a better person. Myungjun, poor, sweet, innocent Myungjun, would stick by his side regardless. He wouldn’t care what Jinwoo became. He would be there to accept it all.

It wasn’t right of him to drag Myungjun down in such a manner.

Jinwoo released Myungjun’s hand. His mouth felt dry. He was shaking. “Sunshine,” he whispered. With that one word, he could already detect confusion within Myungjun’s gaze. Myungjun wouldn’t know what was coming.

Though once Jinwoo grabbed the gloves from the little table, Myungjun seemed to realize what was going on.

“I know it’s spring soon,” he said. “The weather’s gotten a lot warmer already. I doubt you’ll be needing these gloves anytime soon-”

“Jinwoo-”

“But you can use these gloves for next winter. Use them for the winter after that, and the winter after that, and the winter after that. They’re ugly, but they’re better than those stupid red mittens.”

Myungjun sobbed out, “Don’t leave.”

The pain in his voice tore through Jinwoo’s chest. He wanted to cry, too, but he knew better. He had to stay strong and get out of there before he could allow himself the chance to be sad. “And for god’s sake, Sunshine, take your pills, okay? I know they’re disgusting, but you need them in case you get sick. Alright? Promise me you’ll take your pills?” Jinwoo’s throat felt clogged. He swallowed past a lump as he watched Myungjun cry. “Work hard. Take over  _ The Star _ . It’ll be the best damn restaurant in the entire world once you’re the official owner.”

Before Myungjun could say anything, before Myungjun could plead and beg even more, Jinwoo bent down and kissed him. It was soft and gentle, salty due to Myungjun’s tears, dry from his lack of chapstick. Jinwoo craved more, but this would be it.

_ That _ was it.

He drew back and felt his own tears rolling down his cheeks. He made no move to wipe them away. He simply offered Myungjun a smile and whispered, “I’ll always remember you. Every single day. If the sun is out, I’ll think of you. Okay, Sunshine?”

Myungjun couldn’t answer. He reached out as Jinwoo pulled back, but Jinwoo had made up his mind. That was it. That was his final goodbye.

He left the room, ignoring Myungjun’s gasps and cries, and he hurried down the hallway, keeping his head ducked in an effort to hide his tears from the staff walking around him.

He felt lost. He felt as if a part of him had been left behind in that tiny hospital room, hooked up to machines, crying on an uncomfortable bed. Every fiber of his being longed for him to return and declare it all some cruel joke, but his logic won out.

He stepped outside and took a deep breath before wiping at his face.

And so continued his life in darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here i go ruining things
> 
> please follow me on my [twitter](https://twitter.com/thevonseal) i'll give spoilers and updates and whatnot there! i also post my update schedule onto twitter, so if you're curious when this fic will release chapter twenty-nine, check there!


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **chapter warnings:** language and sexual implications

**_Three Years Later_ **

“Have you decided yet whether or not you were at fault?” the woman sitting in front of Jinwoo asked, staring at him expectantly. “Are you still blaming yourself, or have you wondered if it was _you_ that caused it?”

Jinwoo sat, tense and unsure, keeping his eyes trained solely on the ground. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how to respond. He opened his mouth but no words were produced. He tried again, once or twice, before shaking his head.

The woman inhaled, but didn’t release her breath. “That is not an answer, Jinwoo. I want you to be honest with me, so we can eradicate your guilt - did you or did you not cause your ex-boyfriend to be hospitalized?”

“I...did,” Jinwoo replied. “I feel like I did.”

Now the woman exhaled. She wrote something down in the notebook in front of her. “This is a different answer from what you said last week, Jinwoo. What’s changed since then?”

Jinwoo shrugged his shoulders.

“How’s your boyfriend?” the woman asked.

“Packing,” Jinwoo said. “Leaving.”

“Did the two of you break up?”

Jinwoo nodded. It was a bit sudden, but not at all unexpected. He had been shocked it lasted so long in the first place. Nearly two years together all came crumbling down because Eric had finally realized that when Jinwoo said, “I love you,” he didn’t mean it at all.

Eric was someone to get him through his difficult past. Dorky and silly and fun, Eric made Jinwoo forget about all the dreadful things he had been through. After a month of dating, Jinwoo asked Eric to move in with him, and from then on, they were together. Eric _loved_ Jinwoo - it was clear to all those who knew of the relationship.

Jinwoo just couldn’t feel the same way back. Whenever he uttered those three words, he felt as if he betrayed the memory of the one man he _did_ love.

Eric had caught on. It had taken a bit of time, starting with Jinwoo’s recollection of all that had happened. Drunk and vulnerable, Jinwoo had cried as he discussed his previous romance, his previous life. He had sobbed into Eric’s arms, had blubbered out, “I want him back, I want _him_.”

He had apologized the next day, gulping something for his hangover before he went into work. “It was drunken rambling,” he had assured Eric, who hesitated. “It meant nothing.”

“Your relationship with Myungjun meant _something_. I know it did. It’s still affecting you, even now.” Eric sighed. “Jinwoo, you were with him for, what, a couple of months? And that was over a year ago - can you ever just push him out of your memory?”

“It’s not that simple,” Jinwoo argued. He knew he should have agreed with Eric, even if it would be blatantly false, but the thought of forgetting about Myungjun was too painful. “I...I was the reason he was hospitalized. I don’t even know if-if he’s alright. What if he did lose his hand because of me? What if he’s miserable now?”

Eric pursed his lips and grabbed onto his briefcase. He worked as an attorney in a tiny building, far different from Jinwoo’s blue-collar way of life.

Differences attracted, though. That was why Jinwoo clung to Eric.

That was why Jinwoo loved Myungjun.

“He isn’t your problem, though. Not anymore. You left him, and you’re _here_ now. You moved to Wando County to get away from him, didn’t you?” Eric stepped over to the door and put his shoes on. “So please, Jinwoo, please just forget.”

Jinwoo couldn’t forget. It was near impossible. He played like he forgot, like Myungjun was nothing but a distant memory, but he was quiet often, melancholy a lot, and Eric took notice. As Jinwoo sat up in bed late in the night, scrolling through pictures of Myungjun on his phone, or else when he researched reviews for _The Star_ back home, trying to ensure things were running smoothly, he wasn’t exactly great with pretending Myungjun was forgotten.

Eric recommended therapy.

“Why the hell would I need _therapy?_ ” Jinwoo asked, depositing his keys on their kitchen counter. He reached into the fridge for a beer, but Eric, standing close by, pried Jinwoo’s hands away from the drink.

“You can’t get him out of your mind,” Eric said.

Jinwoo scoffed. “And you think _therapy_ will help? Like it will magically erase away all memories of Myungjun? Might be better off trying to find a witch.”

“Don’t...don’t snap at me. Just listen, okay?” Eric released Jinwoo’s hands and stood in front of him, nervous and hesitant. “You constantly think about him. I know you do. You beat yourself up for his accident. You blame yourself. I’ve tried to tell you over and over again that it wasn’t your fault-”

“If I hadn’t been a member of some stupid gang, then Myungjun never would have been hurt. It _is_ my fault.”

Eric looked at him. “Jinwoo,” he murmured. “Do you remember when you fell out of your boat? And you hit your head and got a big bump? One of the other fishermen had forgotten to clean the deck properly the previous day, right? _But_ someone else had accidentally ran into you. You slipped, fell overboard - whose fault was it?”

Jinwoo struggled for a response. “I...I don’t know. The man who didn’t clean?”

“He wasn’t the one that bumped into you.”

“Then it was that guy. The one who bumped into me.”

“But he wasn’t the reason the floor was slippery.”

Jinwoo frowned and yanked the fridge opened. He grabbed onto his beer and popped the tab, letting it fizz for a bit before he snapped, “Okay, then it was my fault _and_ that asshole’s fault - the asshole who stabbed Myungjun’s hand. Both of our faults.”

Eric allowed Jinwoo to drink. He looked defeated. “I just...I can’t do this well. But a therapist will be able to help you through things. They’ll allow you to live a better life. Think about it, for _us._ ”

He hadn’t cared about doing anything to heal his relationship with Eric. Eric was great, someone to sleep with at night and wake up to every morning, but Jinwoo’s heart never once expanded with love and adoration for him, not in the way it had done for Myungjun.

In fact, no one could bring those feelings forth except for Myungjun. Before Eric, Jinwoo had dated around for a bit, but all he could think of was Myungjun.

Was that anyway to live the rest of his life, though? Should he really suffer because of Myungjun? Myungjun was likely prospering away from him, hand or no hand, and why shouldn’t Jinwoo get the chance to prosper, as well?

He accepted Eric’s proposal. The next night, after spending all day out at sea, working and thinking, he came home and climbed in bed beside his boyfriend.

Eric moved in close, holding Jinwoo in his warmth, and Jinwoo whispered, “Help me find a therapist.”

“You mean it?” Eric asked, pulling back and grinning. “Seriously, Jinwoo? You’ll do it?”

Jinwoo put a finger to Eric’s lip and offered him a small smile. “As long as no one else has to know,” he murmured. “We keep my therapy as much as a secret as this relationship is.”

Eric was already nodding, already ecstatic with these plans. “Promise!” he said, planting a few kisses onto Jinwoo’s face. “I love you, Jinwoo, oh, _god_ , I’m so happy for you! You’ll stop feeling miserable, and-and then we’ll always be happy together. No one in between us.”

Jinwoo allowed himself to be lavished with Eric’s love, but he found he couldn’t return that love. Therapy, he thought, would help, but the one therapist he found that might work clearly told him, “You’d want relationship therapy for that.”

Jinwoo, on his first session, had blinked, then asked, “What’s the point of paying you if you aren’t going to make my problems go away?”

“I’m a therapist, not a witch.” The woman shrugged her shoulders. “Besides, you clearly stated this was therapy for past mistakes and transgressions, _not_ relationship issues. I can refer you to therapists who can help with your love life-”

“That won’t be necessary,” Jinwoo assured.

He had figured if he could fix the issues of his past, then his love life would be magically resolved. After all, his problems with Eric stemmed from his constant love and worry for Myungjun. It made sense, therefore, to figure things out about Myungjun first and foremost.

It wasn’t as simple as he thought.

Each therapy session was not only a strain on his wallet, but also his well-being. He was forced now to constantly relive that night of poor Myungjun’s assault. He had to recount from memory the vision of his boyfriend pinned to a wall by a knife stuck in his hand, of the concussion he suffered, of the silly nonsense he sprouted at the hospital from the medication he was doped up on. Jinwoo had hoped that therapy would allow him to forget it all, but his therapist instead wanted to dig into the root of the problem.

“ _Guilt_ is the root,” Jinwoo finally snapped at her one day. “I’m fucking guilty - it’s my fault, and it’ll always be my fault, and nothing you can say will ever make it _not_ my fault.”

He had stormed away after that particular session. He had gone home, where Eric was pouring over some case he was working on. Eric looked surprised when the door slammed open, and he asked, “Is everything alright?”

“Fuck the therapy,” Jinwoo snarled at him. “Do you think I’m okay? This is making it worse - _christ_ , Eric, I’m more miserable than I was before. Do you honestly think remembering all the shit I did to Myungjun will make me feel better? Fuck you!”

Eric hadn’t chased after him as Jinwoo rushed down the hallway into their bedroom. Eric slept on the couch that night.

The next morning, Jinwoo apologized for his temper. He hadn’t meant to take anything out on Eric.

Eric was too kind, too understanding. He shushed Jinwoo’s apology attempts and straightened out his clothes. “Try one more session of therapy,” he whispered, leaning over slightly to press a kiss to Jinwoo’s forehead. “If it doesn’t go well, let’s end it, okay? I just want you happy.”

He went, then, just for Eric. Eric didn’t deserve to be treated like shit, after all, and Jinwoo wanted to make it up to him.

The moment he sat down with the therapist, he said, “It is my fault. Regardless of what you say or what scenarios you can give, if Myungjun hadn’t had been with me, then he would be fine. It’s _my_ fault, and I just want therapy to come to terms with these feelings. Nothing more, nothing less.”

The woman had raised her eyebrows. “One question. If a married couple are driving together and the man gets in an accident, and the woman dies as a result, was it the man’s fault?”

“It was,” Jinwoo responded confidently. “Had he not been with her, she would still be alive.”

“But she would never have experienced the love her husband gave her. She was happy to be with him no matter what. If she had survived the accident and he had abandoned her, do you think her happiness would still be there?”

Jinwoo frowned. He hated people making up stupid scenarios that only vaguely resembled his situation with Myungjun. He felt as if _his_ relationship was a bit more complicated. He felt as if it deserved more than just stories devised on the spot.

He hated this one in particular, because it made him wonder if he had inadvertently taken away the source of Myungjun’s happiness; himself.

The therapy worked somewhat for Jinwoo’s mindset of events of the past. He didn’t blame himself as much for the accident - he blamed himself for leaving afterwards. He had never wanted to return to Myungjun as much as he did when in therapy, and it took a toll on his relationship with Eric.

He was more half-hearted in his “I love you,” responses. When making love, he did the bare minimum to keep up and didn’t want to ever bathe in the afterglow of sex. He stayed out for as long as he could and only came back when Eric texted him, desperate for attention.

He felt terrible, and finally he couldn’t keep ruining Eric’s trust. He told him, “I’m still in love with Myungjun.”

Eric, seated at their kitchen table, glanced up from his meal. “What?”

“I went to therapy to finally put these feelings to rest, but...I can’t. It made me realize just how wrong I was to leave him. I...I mean, it’d be wrong of me to go back, but I can’t...I can’t lie to you, either. I want to be with Myungjun, and _only_ with Myungjun.”

Eric stared at Jinwoo. “You’ve felt this way for a while, haven’t you?”

Jinwoo nodded. He couldn’t keep eye contact. Eric looked so helpless and upset and Jinwoo had to look away. “I don’t want to keep leading you on,” he muttered. “I like you, Eric, I really do, an-and you...you’re fantastic, you truly are. I just...I want Myungjun.”

“Then why don’t you go get him?” Eric snapped.

“It isn’t that simple-”

“Only because you’re making it so difficult. Christ, you talk as if you two were soulmates, and surely if he accepted you back the first time, what’s stopping him from accepting you back a second time?” Eric stood up from his seat suddenly, and Jinwoo startled.

“Eric-”

“I’m going to my brother’s house tonight. I...I can’t...I really thought we could make this work, Jinwoo. I stayed with you regardless of how you felt about Myungjun, knowing that I would always be second place to him, and I was _fine_ , but you stopped trying.” Eric’s chin was quivering. He was going to cry and Jinwoo bit down on his lip. He felt guilty, but not nearly as guilty as he had when he made Myungjun cry.

Eric _should_ be right. Jinwoo only knew Myungjun for one winter; he had known Eric for years. Still, something in Jinwoo’s heart tugged toward Myungjun. His mind was a compass and Myungjun was his north. Being apart for three years had been miserable, and Jinwoo couldn’t pull someone else down with him in his pathetic misery.

So he found himself at his therapists’ office the next day. Eric wanted to pack, and he wanted Jinwoo to stay away for it all. Jinwoo knew, when he went back home, it would feel so empty and he would truly be all alone. He just didn’t want to stop it from happening.

His therapist seemed understanding, at least. “So, you and Eric are broken up, and now you feel guilt from _this_ failed relationship, along with your previous one. Is that it?”

“I feel guilt for causing Myungjun any sort of pain.”

“It’s never about Eric,” his therapist noted. “From the start, if you come to my office with news about Eric, it always relates back to Myungjun.” She sat up in her chair and smiled kindly at Jinwoo. “You never finalized things with Myungjun. You still linger on his memory. Your heart longs to be with _him_. I truly think you should return to Gwangju and reconcile with Myungjun.”

It was an obvious answer to Jinwoo’s misery, but he chose not to follow through with such advice. Instead, he canceled his therapy sessions and decided to focus solely on work. Relationships were not a necessity. He was kept busy at sea all day as he worked on fishing and farming seaweed with other lonely men who lived along the coast. He saw Eric from time to time further in the city or else at a local grocery store, but they chose to ignore each other. It was easier that way. It was _better_ that way.

Out of storage came the Pikachu with a top hat. Jinwoo climbed up in the attic for it, had brushed off a plethora of dust, and had then cradled its musty, plush body to his chest. He was reminded of the first date he went on with Myungjun, bowling and laughing. He was reminded of their first kiss, as Jinwoo had prepared to leave for the evening, as they had thought of ways to prolong the date forever and ever.

He could still feel Myungjun’s lips against his own, he realized, bringing grimy fingers up to his mouth. Myungjun had such plump lips, such _soft_ lips, and they were reserved solely for Jinwoo during that one winter they shared together.

He had so many firsts with Myungjun; first date, first romantic interest, first love. Myungjun had shared similar firsts with Jinwoo, too. They were made for each other. They had been _perfect_ for each other.

“I was so dumb,” Jinwoo told the Pikachu toy in his hands. “If I had left the gang the moment I fell in love with Myungjun - or if I had rejected his requests to move in _until_ I left the gang - or if I had run away when he asked me to - if I had done anything smart and intelligent, Myungjun and I would still be together right now, wouldn’t we? We’d be so happy. And I just...ruined it all. I ruined our relationship. I ruined _him_.”

Pikachu stayed silent. Jinwoo squeezed the little stuffed creature and sighed loudly, leaning up against the wall of his attic. He stared into the dim room.

He liked to imagine what Myungjun would do if he were here. Probably chastise Jinwoo for keeping such a messy attic. He’d probably set up all his dumb plushies in their bedroom. Pikachu would be the main spectacle, though, the artifact from their first date, the most prized possession out of them all.

Myungjun would open up _The Star_ along the coast somewhere. Maybe he would get a building close to the docks, and he would greet Jinwoo when the fishing boat came back to shore. He would have a bowl of hot noodles ready.

The rest of the fishermen would like Myungjun. He’d dote on the older gentlemen and feed them well. If it was a perfect world, none of them would have any issue with Jinwoo and Myungjun’s relationship. They’d accept it. They’d think it would be cute. They’d laugh whenever Myungjun would kiss Jinwoo’s cheek, which he would likely do often.

Jinwoo sighed. He stared down at the Pikachu in his hands before patting its little tophat.

In a perfect world, he would have his Sunshine back in his arms instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so jinwoo is alone again (bye eric) and what will happen last chapter???????
> 
> please follow me on my [twitter](https://twitter.com/thevonseal) i'll give spoilers and updates and whatnot there! i also post my update schedule onto twitter, so if you're curious when this fic will release chapter thirty, check there!


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **chapter warnings:** >=]

**you are my sunshine my only sunshine**

**you make me happy when skies are gray**

**you'll never know dear how much i love you**

**please don't take my sunshine away**

 

**_Six Years Later_ **

 

Jinwoo winced as ice-cold water splashed up on him. He was glad he wore thick, waterproof layers to protect him from the chill of the sea, but he still felt winter’s bite eating away at his skin. He tightened his hat, securing it around the hoodie of his jacket, and continued the work, bending over to collect the fish he had just pulled up on board. They flopped around on the deck, gasping for their sweet nectar of the ocean, but Jinwoo simply tossed them into piles, leaving them to succumb to their faith.

His fingers felt numb as he finally counted his last pile. All fish accounted for, he tossed the net back overboard and hurried down below the deck, where the other fishermen were gathered around a heater, warming their tired limbs.

“Got a good catch,” Jinwoo told them, removing his thick gloves and sticking his hands as close to the heater as he could get them without burning. “Net’s back out. Someone else can take over this time.”

The men groaned in unison. One of them checked the time. “Only two hours before the sun starts to set,” he mentioned. “One last catch, then we can go back to shore and start boxing up the fish. Jinwoo, would you mind staying behind to stick them in the truck? I don’t think you were involved in it last time.”

Jinwoo nodded. “I was sick,” he confirmed, “and I’m really sorry about last time. Thanks for allowing me the chance to go home early.”

The other fishermen smiled fondly at him. “It’s no problem,” the man replied. “You’re too young to force your body to continue working! You’ve got many years ahead of you, and you’d best be healthy for all those years.”

Jinwoo ducked his head to hide the blush on his cheek. He liked the familial aspect of the fishermen he worked with. They were all older, most of them bachelors or widowed. One or two had a family, and only a handful were still married. Jinwoo, despite his age difference and lack of life experience, fit in well with them.

They never really questioned his tattoos or his scars or his secretive past. They accepted him as one of their own and tried their best to include him in whatever they did.

It was a simple life. It was a _quiet_ life. That was all Jinwoo had wanted and all he could really ask for.

He still thought of Myungjun, though. He kept those pictures on his phone, even through several phone changes. He liked the one from their first date, the one that featured the Pikachu. He had such fond memories of his time with Myungjun, and he still berated himself for allowing it to all come crashing down.

Sometimes, when he awoke before the sun in order to get ready for the long day ahead, he wondered if he should go back and find Myungjun. That was what his therapist had said, years ago, back when he still was in therapy. _Return to Gwangju and reconcile with Myungjun_.

“How could I do that now?” Jinwoo asked the Pikachu by his side. He patted its head and scoffed. “It’s been six years since we last saw each other. He’s moved on by now, hasn’t he? I mean, six years is such a long time to go without someone else.”

The Pikachu stared up at him and Jinwoo sighed. “”I mean, I’ve only been alone for three years. There’s a huge difference between six years and three years.”

He failed to remind both himself and the Pikachu that he would like to be alone for the rest of his life. No one could ever compete with Myungjun’s shine, and Jinwoo could never find a replacement for the boy who managed to make him grow into a daffodil. Jinwoo felt freed from his previous life; freed from his gang, freed from his debt, freed from his addictions-

Unfortunately, it seemed it meant he had to be freed from Myungjun, as well. Myungjun had caused him to change, and the change had only continued after they had parted.

“Since I’ve changed,” Jinwoo would tell the Pikachu sometimes, late at night, as he struggled to sleep, “I can probably face Myungjun without feeling the same sort of shame. Right? I needed to get away to ensure his safety and my own rebirth - that’s happened now, hasn’t it?”

_The Star_ was still running smoothly, Jinwoo learned from his constant Internet searches. It was a thriving business with nothing but grand reviews. That meant Myungjun was surely safe and well. Jinwoo liked to imagine him working hard and smiling brightly all the while. Sanha would be in college by now. Minhyuk would have followed him, as Myungjun predicted. Myungjun probably hired help for the shop. Maybe Bin and Dongmin assisted him from time to time. They _were_ Myungjun’s best friends. And what of Myungjun’s parents? Would they be helping still? Had Myungjun’s father finally passed the deed down to his son?

There were so many questions that Jinwoo longed to have answered, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t face Myungjun again after six years, when their lives had taken different directions, when Myungjun was probably happy enough without him.

The winter was cold, though, and Jinwoo longed for warmth. Myungjun was always so warm; even his smile could brighten Jinwoo’s entire day. Pictures just couldn’t cut it, and so Jinwoo simply had to wear heavier coats and jackets, especially on workdays where he had to continue his job into the night.

He didn’t necessarily mind such long days, as they allowed him to think of other things, but tonight, his mind stayed solely on Myungjun.

He loaded crates of fish into the back of an awaiting truck, grunting as he lifted the heavy cartons. He stunk of the sea, of salt and of fish, but that was common. It was normal. He much preferred it, anyway, to the smell of cigarettes and weed and alcohol that used to taint his body. He did honest work now, _hard_ work now, work that he could be proud of, and the stench was simply a part of that.

His fingers felt like icicles. He rubbed his hands together frantically in an attempt to warm them up. The truck driver, watching him work, laughed. “Cigarette?” he offered, as he always did.

“No, thanks,” Jinwoo mumbled. He had quit cold turkey years ago, before he even met Eric. From time to time, the craving for nicotine would hit him like a freight train, but he forced himself not to touch a single thing that would bring back his addictions. He wanted to be clean. Besides, he had always reminded himself what happened to innocent people when he allowed filth to overtake his life.

Innocent people got knives stabbed into their hands.

Jinwoo finished placing the last crate on the truck and he grunted. “All done.”

The trucker driver removed his cigarette from his mouth. “You’re the fastest loader out of all the fishermen,” he pointed out.

“I’m the youngest. It makes sense for me to be faster than they are.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets. His nose was runny from the cold, and he longed to get home.

The man smiled at him. “You’re antsy,” he murmured, watching as Jinwoo shuffled his feet. “Got a pretty girl to go back home to, don’t you?” Before Jinwoo could respond, the man continued, “You never talk about her, but you sure do smile a lot as you work. I know you _think_ about her, at least.” He winked, walking back to the front of his truck, and added on, “Hope she warms you up really well tonight, Kid!”

Jinwoo didn’t want to say anything. What was he to say, anyway? _I don’t have a girl, but I used to have a boy who loved me even though I was a criminal and even though I did drugs and even though I was horrible, and his hand may or may not be amputated because of me, but all I can think about is him_.

That would definitely be a conversation starter.

Instead of delving into his personal life, Jinwoo simply smiled back at him. He bowed once before hurrying off, quite ready to hop on the bus and head home.

As he walked down the sidewalk, he wondered if things would ever be different in his life. Some of the men he worked with had been alone forever, spending years and years out at sea, fishing their lives away. They seemed cheerful enough. Jinwoo figured he could also become some sort of fishing hermit. He would focus solely on work and rid himself of any thoughts concerning Myungjun.

Even as he thought it, though, he laughed at himself. It was impossible to forget about Myungjun. Jinwoo had tried everything, short of ridding himself of the Pikachu and the pictures. He knew that even if he were to throw away any reminder of his ex-boyfriend, Myungjun would never truly go away. He remained in Jinwoo’s life, his spirit shining through the hot sun throughout the day, and tattooed clearly on Jinwoo’s chest throughout the night. Myungjun was part of Jinwoo now, and trying to rid himself of the memory would mean killing part of himself.

He would suffer, then. He would forever wonder if things could have been different between the two of them. He would forever wonder what life would be like if they had met under normal circumstances.

If Jinwoo was a photographer, as he had claimed to be, there would never be any issues with their relationship. Jinwoo’s friends would be artistic and imaginative, liberal in mindset. They would accept the relationship, and Myungjun could easily mold into the group.

Jinwoo climbed on the bus when it arrived. He swiped his bus pass, then collapsed in his usual seat near the window, staring out at the sleepy coastal town.

If he was a photographer, he would probably live in a nice apartment. He would feel proud if Myungjun ever asked to move in with him. They would have an actual living room with a couch, maybe little bar stools in their kitchen, an island with lights hanging overhead for romantic dinners. Their bathroom would have a clawed tub _and_ a shower. They could bathe together, perhaps using up an entire bottle for bubbles. Water would splash, soap would get everywhere, and there would be a huge mess to clean up, but they would laugh and clean together.

He would have a nice bed with a heavy duvet that they could curl up in during these cold winter nights. Perhaps Myungjun would read a bit before bedtime. He would sit up against the pillows, his reading glasses perched on his nose, hair still a bit wet from their bath.

Jinwoo wouldn’t read. Jinwoo would just watch him instead, and he would wonder how he got so lucky.

When they would go to sleep, they would curl into each other, whispered words of affection leaving their lips. The last thing they would both hear before bed would be those beautiful words, “I love you.”

If he chose to remain as a fisherman, though, he hoped Myungjun wouldn’t mind the fishy smell that seemed to linger on Jinwoo’s form at all times. He hoped Myungjun would laugh it off, or else come to find it familiar and comforting. Jinwoo inhaled and closed his eyes as he settled his head against the window. Myungjun would smell as he always did, of home-cooked meals and of lavender-scented detergent and a slight scent of vanilla. Jinwoo would hug him close and the scent would linger with him for the rest of the day, even as he rode out to sea, even as he was covered in seawater and fish.

During lunch, he would probably eat a meal Myungjun would cook for him. There would always be little notes in his lunchbox: _you’re doing fantastic babe!_ Or _jinnie i love u!!!!!_ The other men would tease him for it, but they would all be jealous of the ever-constant honeymoon phase Myungjun and Jinwoo would be in.

Jinwoo sighed heavily. The bus rolled to a stop and he opened his eyes. A mother was getting on the bus, two children following her, each with a toy in their hands. They were small and wide-eyed, and the mother laughed as they made silly sounds and came up with extravagant stories for the toys they owned. Jinwoo watched on fondly.

Though he knew he and Myungjun would likely never have children in such a society, he liked to imagine that they _could_. They would adopt one or two wonderful kids from an orphanage. The kids would go to school everyday and would likely hang out with Myungjun at his shop. Perhaps they would learn how to cook early on. Jinwoo would help them with homework as best he could when he came home. Myungjun would go over whatever Jinwoo could not do.

They would tuck the children into bed together at nighttime, cooing over them and kissing their foreheads softly. Their children would have all the best traits from Myungjun, likely; they would smile brightly and talk often and treat others with nothing but grace and kindness. They would be steadfast in their beliefs, strong in the face of adversary, and they would love others with all their heart.

Jinwoo ran his fingers through his hair. He still shivered; his fingers wouldn’t warm up.

The bus stopped again, this time near several shops that were still opened, signs bright and welcoming to any late-night guests. Jinwoo knew what they were; there was a convenience store run by some grumpy old lady, a karaoke bar that Jinwoo longed to visit but chose not to, so he wouldn’t relive his date with Myungjun, and a doughnut shop that, for some reason, was never opened.

Except, suddenly it was no longer the doughnut shop.

Jinwoo blinked, realizing that the sign for the doughnuts was removed. In its place was a larger sign, not yet lit up as the others on the block were. Jinwoo had to squint through the darkness to read the name.

_Sunshine_.

He felt his heart race. He sat up straighter in his seat, face pressed against the window, as he struggled to make out details.

_Opening Soon!!!_ a sign on the door read, complete with a hand-drawn bowl of piping hot noodles, a little octopus hanging off the side of the bowl, and a smiling sun shining down over the food.

Jinwoo felt like he couldn’t breathe.

It had to be some sort of strange coincidence. He _knew_ he called Myungjun _Sunshine_ , and he also knew that Myungjun had joked he should have called his noodle shop _Sunshine_ . He knew, too, Myungjun had talked about moving to the coast with Jinwoo. _Seafood ramen is popular_ , he had stated the night they first made love.

Myungjun, though, was still running _The Star_ . Or, at least, _The Star_ was still running. Jinwoo had kept updated with their reviews, and they had a new one as of yesterday. There was no way he was suddenly _here_ , right?

Jinwoo thought of getting off the bus, of running to check out the shop, but in his hesitation, the bus began to move again, rolling down the street and leaving behind the elusive _Sunshine_.

Jinwoo exhaled heavily and leaned back in his seat. Perhaps tomorrow he would stop by, just to make sure Myungjun hadn’t magically appeared. Tonight, he would try to push it out of his mind. It was a coincidence. Someone else just had opened a shop under a similar name. That was all.

He ran a hand down his face, then sighed. His fingers were still cold. He rubbed his hands together and breathed deeply on them in an attempt to warm up.

Someone sat down next to him, presumably someone that had gotten on at that bus stop. Jinwoo felt mildly inconvenienced; there were plenty of other open spots available. Why would they choose the one right next to him?

He stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets, but chose to ignore this stranger.

The stranger didn’t ignore him.

The stranger stuffed a pair of gloves right underneath his nose.

Jinwoo blinked, trying to decipher what it was he was looking at. They were old gloves, pilling a bit, hand-knit, obviously, and yellow.

Yellow gloves.

Being held by a hand with a red mitten.

Jinwoo’s head shot up and he quickly turned to his side, staring at the stranger in shock.

He was bundled up, as he had been that winter six years ago. He had on a large scarf and a big beanie and a puffy coat. As far as Jinwoo could tell, he only had one mitten on, but he couldn’t even focus on his lack of a hand at the moment, because he grew far too busy staring at his face.

“Take the gloves,” Sunshine murmured, dumping them into Jinwoo’s lap. “I think you’ll need them more than I will.”

Jinwoo had a lump in his throat. He tried to swallow around it, but he was unable to. Tears sprung to his eyes as he stared at a face so familiar, yet so uncommon. Sunshine smiled at him, and Jinwoo saw that his eyes were also watery.

Jinwoo felt something spring up in his heart, a joy he had not felt in so many years, and he whispered, “Sunshine?”

Myungjun nodded, his smile turning into a tearful grin. “Jinnie,” he greeted.

Sunshine had returned to chase away Jinwoo’s dreary winter.

His Sunshine was back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND SO IT ENDS!!!!!!!!!!!! i think this is my longest fic to date and whoa whoa whoa i really enjoyed every last minute of it. i really appreciated all of the kind words and the excitement surrounding it, too. you guys made me feel really satisfied and really happy! it's a fic that went through a lot of different plans (originally, sanha was going to be a target of the gang and originally it was only going to be 15 chapters long) but i think it's good we ended things here!
> 
> if you would like to keep up with my other fics, i currently have a view ongoing ones! there's my mj/dongmin fic, [here we are again](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17508728/chapters/41242928), there's my mj/bin fic [general kim](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15583557/chapters/36179559), and there's the collab fic [End of an Orbit](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1050881), which will begin part 2 soon! I will also be rewriting [4'33"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13883403/chapters/31943595), and I will also be posting oneshots here and there. 
> 
> please follow me on my [twitter](https://twitter.com/thevonseal) i'll give spoilers and updates to other fics, and i'm always up to discuss this fic, too!
> 
> thank you all for the support! i love you!


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